


In Too Deep

by twentysixletters



Series: More Than Family [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Break Up, F/M, Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Romance, Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy, angst is happening, don't hate me, john is kind of awkward, just so you know people are going to die, main character turns badass hunter, starts fluffy then turns sad, starts way before canon, they don't get together quickly, young Sam and Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:46:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 37,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4383320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentysixletters/pseuds/twentysixletters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester meets Abbie Simmons, a journalist from New York, in a bar. Before long, they see each other again, but under less happy circumstances. Abbie becomes a hunter, and they can't seem to keep away from each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> I've never tried doing a full length Supernatural fic before, so this could be interesting. I do kind of know what's going to happen, though, so I'll update as regularly as possible. This is part of a series, so there will eventually be a sequel (which may or may not have been partially written already).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie and John meet for the first time. This is quite short, because it's been fighting me for a while- the next chapter should be longer!

Rochester, 1987

Abigail Simmons frowned at her notebook, her pen hovering above the page. For some reason, the words of her article just weren’t coming today. She leaned back in her bus seat, rubbing at the space between her eyes. The damn thing was giving her a headache, so she slammed it shut and thrust it into her bag. It looked like she’d have to work on the article while she was at her parents’ house. Mum would be thrilled.

She hated bus journeys, being confined in a small space with total strangers. Actually, she hated being in confined spaces at all. Trips to visit her parents, though, usually made them necessary- in spite of her dad’s consistent nagging to get herself a car. Cars were a waste of time and money in New York. At least this bus wasn’t too full.

The jolt of the bus coming to a halt startled her out of her thoughts. Surely they couldn’t be there already? A glance out the window confirmed that yes, they were. She must have spent longer on that article than she’d thought. According to her watch, they were early, too. Great. She’d have to find somewhere to wait for her parents to pick her up, like a teenager. The bus wasn’t supposed to have arrived for another three quarters of an hour.

With a sigh, she gathered her things up and got off. If she remembered right, there was a library not too far away. Hopefully she’d be able to get some work done there. She tugged her jacket a little tighter around her- it was cold for March.

When she finally trudged up to the doors of the library, a sign on the door caught her attention.

Closed for Refurbishment.

It was noisy and smoky, but there was a booth in the corner where she thought she’d be able to work in peace. Trying not to attract the attention of the men at the bar, she hurried to claim her seat and got herself settled. The waitress came over, and she ordered a lemonade.

A change of scenery had not made it any easier to write. After a few minutes of staring at the piece of paper- which was still mostly blank –she gave up and slumped in her seat, closing her eyes.

“You all right there?” asked a voice nearby. She opened her eyes to see a man sat at the bar smiling at her. He was leaning against the counter calmly, but his eyes shifted restlessly around the room. “You look like you could use a drink.”

She studied him appreciatively. He wore a simple dark blue shirt and dark jeans, tight enough to show off his muscles, and his dark hair was cropped close to his head. His eyes were dark brown…and currently shining with amusement at the way she was checking him out. She raised her eyebrows, refusing to be embarrassed.

“I could use a drink, but I don’t think my parents would be too happy if I arrived home drunk. They probably wouldn’t let me in the car.”

“You looked like you were enjoying the view.”

Startled, she laughed. “And, yeah, if I was?”

“Well, if you wanted a closer look, I wouldn’t object.” He cocked his eyebrow. “How about it?”

“That depends. Do you often hit on random women in bars?”

“Only when they deserve the attention.”

His smile was teasing, but his eyes looked sincere. She looked quickly away, suddenly uneasy. Her hand reached out to fiddle with her pen. The smile faded from his face, and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I’m making you uncomfortable, aren’t I? I should go.”

He got up to leave, but as he passed her table his hand brushed against it. She hesitated, before reaching out and grabbing it.

“No, wait. I’m sorry, I guess I just freaked out. You can stay, if you’d like.” She couldn’t meet his eyes as she spoke.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

Slowly, he slid into the booth opposite her.

“So what were you writing?” he asked, after the silence had stretched on for a second too long. Pursing her lips, she slid her notebook towards him.

“My work. I’m a journalist. I was writing an article, but it didn’t want to be written.”

He let out a snort of laughter, and the sound was so utterly unexpected that she had to smile in response. “That’s never a good sign. Why were you trying to write it in a bar, then?”

“My bus was early, the library was closed, and my lift won’t get here for another,” she checked her watch. “Twenty minutes.” For some reason, she didn’t want him to know who was giving her the lift.

“We should make the most of that time, then,” he winked. “Is it alright if I look at this?” He gestured to the notebook.

She nodded gingerly and shrugged at the same time. “I mean, if you want to, then sure.”

A small smile played on his lips as he opened it, his eyes scanning over some of the words. After a few minutes, they widened. “This is good.”

“I should hope so. After all, it is my job,” she laughed.

He looked through the notebook for a few more minutes before she asked, “So what do you do? For a living, I mean?”

His brow furrowed momentarily. “I travel a lot, so I pick up work where I can, and I have two sons to look after. At the moment, I have a part-time mechanic job.”

“That sounds interesting,” she smiled.

He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Most women run a mile when I tell them that.”

“It doesn’t pay to be judgemental,” she explained. “If I was, it would be hard to find a decent man in New York.”

“A city girl, huh?”

“Country girl at heart, but I live in the city now. Obviously.”

“So what’re you doing here?”

“My parents live not far away, and it’s my dad’s birthday in a couple of days. They don’t see me often, so they like it when I visit for things like this. Speaking of,” she checked her watch again, “my lift will be here soon. I’m really sorry, but I should go.”

“No problem. I’m sorry for distracting you.” His eyes sparkled.

“It was a nice break,” she grinned back.

There was an awkward pause, before she moved to put her notebook back in her bag. When she surfaced, she caught him staring at her. Embarrassed, he coughed.

She stood up to leave, and felt his gaze follow her all the way to the door. Biting a sudden pang of disappointment- and she didn’t know why she felt like that, she’d known the man less than half an hour, she didn’t even know his name –she went out into the street. The sudden chill was a slap to the face, and she pulled her coat tighter around herself.

She’d been walking for about two minutes when footsteps hurried up behind her. Turning around, she almost crashed straight into someone’s chest, and stumbled. Large, warm hands caught her, holding her against a soft leather jacket smelling of smoke and something she couldn’t name. Her heart began to hammer against her chest as she looked up at the face of the stranger from the bar.

“I’m sorry, I just- we didn’t finish the conversation. I don’t even know your name,” he said in a rush. The traffic racing past almost drowned him out as he muttered, “God, I’m bad at this.”

She ducked her head, hoping he wouldn’t see how her eyes had lit up. “No, you’re not,” she told him softly. “Abbie Simmons. That’s my name.”

That already familiar smile grew on his lips again. “I’m John Winchester.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” she replied, laughing.

They became aware that he was still holding her at the same time. He let go and she stepped away, neither knowing where to look. Then he let out a long breath.

“Look, I don’t suppose you’d like to go on a date with me, would you? While we’re both in town?”

Her brain wiped itself clean of anything to say. Her next words were just babble. “Well, it would be quite difficult if we were in different towns, wouldn’t it?” They came out faster and higher than she’d intended. “I mean, you could phone, I suppose, but…”

Now he was grinning, and he lifted his finger and placed it over her lips. She fell silent immediately, her eyes widening. “Is that an invitation?”

Slowly, he took the finger away, and she nodded. When her voice returned, she said, “That is most definitely an invitation.” The words shook slightly.

“Do you have a phone number, then, Abbie Simmons?” Somehow his deep, smooth voice made it sound like a name from a storybook. With trembling fingers, she took a pen from her pocket and scribbled a string of digits on his hand.

“That’s my parents’ house number. Phone me tomorrow.”

“Is that an order?”

“Do you want it to be an order?” The words came out of nowhere, bringing with them a rush of heat to her cheeks. “I mean, oh god, I didn’t mean that…”

She tailed off as he drew her into a hug. “I know what you meant. I’ll speak to you tomorrow,” he murmured into her ear.

Her body was suddenly motionless, her brain working at a manageable pace again. At her sides, her arms stilled, then wrapped around his neck.

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Miss Simmons,” he grinned as he let go. He took a few steps backwards before turning and walking away.

She grinned after him for a few moments, smiling like an idiot, before the chiming of a nearby clock shook her to her senses. God, she needed to get back to the station. Her parents would be here soon.

His voice, his smile, the way he walked all replayed in her mind as she hurried back through the streets. The cold couldn’t seem to touch her, and the smell of his jacket lingered in her nose. Her face began to ache with smiling, but she couldn’t seem to stop. Hopefully her parents would just put it down to her being pleased to be home.

And she was, but not for the reason they were expecting.


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie argues with her mother. John rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't my best, and I'm sorry it's taking the story a while to get going. I'm going on holiday tomorrow, so I won't update for about a week, but the plot will get going soon. Thanks for reading!

The next morning, Abbie woke in her old bed. Her thoughts were still vaguely fuzzy, but they flew immediately to the smile of the man she’d met the night before. Something warm settled in her stomach at the memory, bringing a wide grin to her face. 

After a few minutes, she came to her senses. Honestly, it was like she’d stepped into a time warp- she was lying in her old bedroom, in the same house where she’d grown up, daydreaming about a boy. Newsflash, Abbie- it’s time to grow up. Laughing at herself, she threw her covers off and slid out of bed.

The thought didn’t stop her smiling to herself as she pulled on jeans and a shirt and made her way, barefoot, to their little kitchen. Her mum was already sat at the kitchen table, clutching a cup of coffee and studying the paper, whilst her dad cooked porridge on the stove. 

“Morning, Abbie,” he smiled at her as he heard her come in. “Sleep well?”

“Really well, thanks,” she replied, leaning over to kiss his cheek. He absent-mindedly reached up to tug her ponytail. She pulled away, slapping his hand lightly, and sat at the table. As she opened her notebook, she began to hum. 

“Someone’s in a good mood,” commented her mother, a little curiously. She wore a red dressing gown, and her dark brown hair -the same colour as Abbie’s- was in a tight ponytail. Her face was beginning to show her age, and a few threads of silver ran through her hair. 

“Is that allowed?” Abbie asked teasingly. “Or would you prefer I be in a bad mood?”

She held her hand up. “I wasn’t complaining.” Then her gaze fell to the notebook, her lips thinning in disapproval. “That’s not work, is it?”

Abbie managed to stop herself groaning. The warm feeling curdled into one of apprehension as she braced herself for an attack. “Please, Mum, don’t start. I’ll try and get it finished today.”

“Abigail.” Her mother’s patient, patronising tone made her bristle. “We hardly ever see you. I’m sure your little article can wait for a few more days.”

“Mum, it won’t take long, then I’ll be able to properly relax. I’d like to have it done before I go back to New York, then I won’t be quite as behind. I don’t want a fight.” It was a battle to keep her voice even, although her hands had curled into fists beneath the table. 

“All I’m asking is that you put work aside for a few days so that we can celebrate your father’s birthday properly. That shouldn’t be too difficult, should it? I just want some time with my daughter.”

Trying to control herself, she closed her eyes briefly. “I know, Mum, but I’ll be less distracted if this is finished. I’m really sorry, I know this is difficult, but I’m behind with work as it is.”

“If the workload is that bad, you really should move back home, darling. There are plenty of less demanding jobs here, I’m sure Carter’s law firm has an opening for a secretary. And it would be lovely to see more of you. You might even find someone to settle down with. How does that sound, hmm?” She surveyed Abbie over the tops of her glasses, and her condescending expression made Abbie’s stomach clench. 

She stood abruptly. Her mother’s eyes followed her, taken aback. “Mum, I don’t want a new job. I’m quite happy where I am, and I’ve worked hard to get there. I’ll settle down when I’m ready to. Now I’m going to try and get some work done, and hopefully I’ll be able to finish it quickly.” When she tried to leave the room, her mother followed her. 

“Joshua, would you please back me up? She might listen to you,” she said as she passed her father. “Abigail, you are not to walk away from me like that.”

Abbie turned, eyes blazing, but her father came up to the doorway, putting a hand on her mother’s shoulder. He gave her a placating look. “Abbie, could it wait until this afternoon?” he asked gently. “It has been a while since we’ve seen you.”

Abbie let the calming words wash through her, and was about to reply when her mother cut in again. “Precisely. You need to have some time to yourself. I don’t know where this attitude is coming from, but I don’t like it. I’ve always said that the city was the wrong place for you.”

At those words, she finally snapped. She took a few steps away, and heat rose to her cheeks. “I’m not a teenager any more, Mum. Please don’t talk to me like that. I have to work because I have to earn money. I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but that’s the truth. Now I’m going outside, and hopefully I’ll be able to finish what I need to.”

She walked upstairs, and heard her parents muttering behind her. Her heart was thundering, and she needed her own space. She wrenched open her bedroom door and went straight to the window. Once she’d opened it, the cold air rushed in over her. She breathed it in gratefully. 

Leaning on her elbows on the windowsill, she surveyed the view. Their house was a few streets away from the town centre, with a small front garden blocked off with a fence. A tree, planted around they’d moved here, stood near the front, and the sun shone against its flowers. It looked like it would be a nice day.

She was still clutching her notebook in her hand. In an attempt to calm herself, she flicked through its pages to remember what she needed to write about. An idea for an introduction flickered in her mind, and she moved to sit at her desk.

Before she could begin to write, there was a soft knock on her door. She closed her eyes.

“Dad, if you’re coming to argue her side, please just leave me alone. I need some time to cool down, or I’ll start shouting again,” she called softly.

He opened it and came to stand just inside the room. His light blue eyes studied her mildly. “I wasn’t coming to fight for her. She shouldn’t have spoken to you the way she did. I do wish you could have left the work, though.” He ran a hand through his short hair. It was more grey than brown now, and getting thinner. In fact, everything about him seemed a little thinner these days. 

She rested her head against the back of her chair and sighed. “I know. I tried to write it on the bus yesterday, but it wasn’t coming. I really do have to finish it, though. I’ll try and get it done quickly.”

He came to sit on her bed, easing himself down slowly. She kept herself from trying to steady him when he winced, but he still caught her hands’ movement.

“Don’t worry about your old dad, Abbie. I’m okay. You know, we’re so proud of how hard you’re working up there. Your mum just worries about you, that’s all. By your age, she was already married.” He looked over at her, and his eyes were soothing. “Don’t be angry with her.”

“I’m not,” she admitted. “I just wish she’d trust me to know the best way to live my own life. I can’t live it the way you two did. I need to live before I’m married, I can’t be trapped in the same town my whole life. Mum doesn’t understand that.”

“I know. I know she’s difficult, but she just want you happy, Abbie.”

She let her head rest on her dad’s shoulder. “Is she very angry?”

“More put out than anything, I think. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to her. And I’ll make sure you have space to do what you need to.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she smiled.

“Anything for my favourite daughter,” he chuckled.

“Your only daughter.”

“My beautiful, talented, hardworking daughter, who also needs to eat something. Would you like me to bring some porridge up?”

“If you would, that would be lovely.”

She managed to write almost a quarter of the article before he came back, and smiled at him gratefully when he placed it next to her. “Thanks, Dad.”

He brushed a kiss on top of her head. “I’m going for a walk. See you soon, love.” The simple gesture made her smile- he was giving them space to make up.

The porridge vanished quickly, and she took a deep breath before taking the bowl back downstairs. It didn’t take too long to wash it up and put it back where it belonged. Before she could escape back upstairs again, her mother appeared in the doorway. 

“Abbie…I’m sorry. I was out of order.” She sighed heavily. “I just wish we saw more of you, that’s all.” She could barely meet her eyes, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. Abbie smiled as she walked towards her.

“Mum, it’s fine. It was my fault too, I really should have finished it before I left.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I did, though. I’m proud of you, Abbie, I really am.”

“I know you are. Come here.” They hugged each other, and Abbie smiled into her shoulder.

“Do you think you’ll be finished by this afternoon?” she asked. 

“If I can carry on at the rate I am now, probably.”

“I should let you get on with it, then. I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

Abbie worked for the rest of the morning, managing to produce an acceptable draft. It wasn’t perfect, but she’d be able to edit it once she was back at the office. She just wanted to spend the rest of the weekend with her parents. 

In the wake of the argument, she’d forgotten about John Winchester, and about giving him her phone number. She and her mother were having lunch, her dad not being back from his walk, when the phone rang. 

“I’ll get it,” she said, springing to her feet and wandering to where the phone lived on a table in the hall. “Hello?”

“Abbie? Is that you?”

Her heart fluttered at the sound of his deep voice. “Yes, it is. John?”

“You sound different over the phone.” She could hear the smile in his voice. 

“So do you.”

He let out a short burst of laughter. “That makes sense. I was wondering, would you like to go out to dinner?”

She was taken aback. “Well, it depends when. I’m not here very long…”

“I was thinking tonight? In Rochester?” His voice went a little higher.

“Tonight?” She glanced back at the kitchen, moving a little further away. “I’d have to…I mean, I don’t know if my parents have plans…”

Now he sounded quieter. “Of course. I understand if it’s too short notice. Stupid of me…”

“No! No, I want to. It’s just…let me talk to my mum. Wait a second.”

“Right.”

She took the phone from her ear and faced her mother, who was leaning against the doorway. “Who is it?”

Rubbing her head, she replied, “It’s kind of…complicated. I met him last night, while I was waiting for you, and he’s asked me on a date. Tonight.”

Her mother’s face lit up. “Well, you have to go! Ignore everything I said earlier. You have to go.”

The joy on her face made Abbie smile despite herself. “I don’t know, Mum. I really did want to spend some time with you.”

“Don’t be silly! We’ve got tomorrow. Besides, you’ll enjoy yourself. Do you like him?”

She looked away, trying to hide her grin, and her mother laughed. “Well, that answers that. I want you to say yes.”

“This isn’t just you trying to get me to settle down, is it?”

“No! I want you to enjoy your life! Go and enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks, Mum,” she smiled. Her mother withdrew into the kitchen, and she picked the phone back up.

“Sorry. Did you hear any of that?”

“A little,” he admitted. “Look, if you want to spend time with your parents…I’ll end up in New York sooner or later. We can meet up then.” Despite his words, he sounded dejected.

“Didn’t you listen? I want to meet up, I really do. Where did you have in mind?”

“There’s this lovely restaurant, not far from our bar, actually. If I gave you the address, could you meet me there? At seven, maybe?”

“Of course I could! I mean, I’d love to. I…I want to see you again.”

“And I want to see you again. Okay, can you write the address down?”

She grabbed some paper and scribbled down what he told her, her heart thudding. There was warmth in his voice as he said, “So you’ve got that?”

“Yes. I’m looking forward to it,” she said.

“So am I, sweetheart.” 

Her heart skipped a beat, and he began to babble as he realised what he said. “Oh, god, I didn’t mean it like that. It just, I don’t know, slipped out. I’m sorry…”

“You don’t need to apologise. I don’t mind,” she interrupted him. There was a smile dancing over her lips. “I really don’t mind. It’s been a while since anyone called me that.”

“Right.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, and she just imagined him on the other end of the phone, maybe in his own kitchen. In a little flat nearby.

“I’ll see you tonight, then,” he said finally. He spoke more smoothly, and she could picture the cocky smirk on his face. 

“See you tonight. Bye, John.”

“Bye, Abbie.”

She put down the phone, and just leaned against the wall. That warm feeling had settled back into her stomach, and it was all she could do to not dance around like a maniac.

“You really like him, then.” Her mother was watching her, smiling.

“I really do.”

“Then you need to find the right outfit. I could help you?” she offered hesitantly. 

The offer surprised Abbie, but her anxious expression made her smile. “I’d like that. And I can tell you about him.”

“Come on then, let’s get started.”

They went upstairs together, and as they spread Abbie’s clothes out on her bed, her stomach was fizzing with excitement. She could hardly stand still, and she could tell how amused her mother was.

“Abbie, you’re behaving like a teenager.”

“I feel like a teenager,” she grinned. 

“Try and calm down, or we’ll never be finished.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Don’t be cheeky!” she laughed.

But Abbie couldn’t help it. She hadn’t been on a date for a while, and she had to admit that this guy was worth the excitement. Seven o’clock couldn’t come fast enough.


	3. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie and John go on a date. They talk, and she starts thinking about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know it's been a while, and I'm really sorry. I've been away for the best part of two weeks and it's been difficult to find time to write. But I'm back now, and there's even some more backstory in this for you guys!

Her hands trembled nervously as she reached for her jacket. It had been a while since she had time for a date, and she’d never enjoyed the way she felt before them. 

It would take her about half an hour to drive back out to Rochester, and she knew she’d be practically shaking the whole way. When she felt like this, it wasn’t hard to remember why she’d dated so little in New York. 

“Hey,” her mother said gently, placing a hand over her own. “Why are you shaking? You’re looking forward to this. You’re going to have a great time.”

She gave her a shaky grin, hoping that it would look more confident than she felt. “Yeah, I know. I just need to get used to the way this feels.”

“Maybe if you found a different job, you would already be used to it…”

“Mum. Please,” she snapped. The wave of frustration momentarily overtook her nerves. Her mother took a step away, hands raised. She looked at Molly reproachfully.

“No need to snap. It was just a suggestion.”

“Yes, well. It’s not something I want to hear tonight,” she said firmly. A glance at the clock showed her that it was nearly half past six- time to leave. “I had better be going. Have a good evening, Mum.”

“And you, sweetheart.” Her mother leaned forward and brushed her lips across her cheek. “Don’t be too late back.”

She swallowed down her response, instead calling up the stairs, “Bye, Dad!” Her father had come back just as she was getting ready, but had immediately headed upstairs, pleading a headache. He didn’t reply.

She grabbed her bag and keys from beside the door and walked out to the car. Sliding into the backseat, she noticed that she was trembling again. It took a few deep breaths before her hands were still enough to start the car. 

Unbidden, the idea of what John Winchester would say if he could see her flitted across her mind. It made her laugh as she pictured the way he would smirk, the glint in his eyes that would say he was about to tease her. Crap, was she imagining him now too? She was too far gone already. 

Still, the memory of his voice kept her from panicking too much as she drove. In fact, the journey felt faster than she’d known it to be before. It seemed to be only a few minutes before she was pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant. 

Cool night air skimmed the back of her neck, making her shiver as she got out of the car. The hem of her skirt swishing against her knees was a comfortingly familiar feeling, and she focused on that as she set out towards the door. She could smell the food from across the lot. Despite her unease, it was still good enough to make her stomach mumble.   
“Good evening, madam. May I help you?” the waiter at the door asked as she approached. He was young, younger than her, and she felt his eyes linger on her hips where the dress clung to her. She swallowed, refusing the temptation to turn tail and run.

“Yes, I think I have a table booked? Under the name of Winchester?”

He consulted a piece of paper, and smiled ingratiatingly at her. “Yes, it’s written down here. Your companion doesn’t appear to be here yet. Would you like me to take you to your table?” 

“Yes, please.”

As she followed him through the restaurant, she glanced around- it was a little cramped, but warmly lit and inviting. John Winchester clearly had good taste. 

Their table was close to the window, tucked in a corner of the room. Once she was sat, the waiter handed her a menu and said, “I’ll be back to take your drink order in a minute.”  
He left, and she took a deep breath. Now she was sitting, the nerves were making another appearance. Her foot bounced nervously under the table. 

 

Five minutes ticked by, then ten. She began to feel edgy. She’d been early, but surely not that early? Had she perhaps mistaken what he’d said to her? No, because the table had been booked. But he had no reason to want to take her on a date. Was this just a joke?

Fifteen minutes. The other customers were beginning to sneak quick glances at her. Their stares felt warm on her dress. She was on the brink of leaving when the waiter reappeared, followed by a flustered-looking John. It was hard to fight back a smile at the way his face lit up when he saw her. 

“Abbie! I’m so sorry, work held me up. You must think I’m so rude.”

“Not at all,” she assured him, standing up for a hug. Even in heels, she was still looking up at him, and his blue shirt smelt vaguely of something like gunpowder.   
“Have you ordered anything yet?”

“No, I was waiting for you,” she smiled. “I am hungry, though.”

“Well then, why wait?” He turned to the waiter. “A bottle of the house wine, please.”

“Of course, sir.” He bowed, and left. As they both sat down, she felt him studying her. His intense gaze set her cheeks alight. Instead of meeting it, she chose to stare at him instead, drinking in the way his shirt clung to him. He was definitely as hot as he had been last night.

“So, Miss Simmons. How was your day?” He leaned forward slightly, raising his eyebrows.

“Not bad, thank you, Mr Winchester. How about yours? You looked pretty exhausted when you walked in here.”

His jaw tightened a little, and he looked away. His shoulders rose. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to not think about work. It was a long day, that’s all.”

“So you get a lot of customers at the garage?”

“The…oh, of course. Yes, we do.” 

The waiter came back, carrying their wine and two menus. Abbie opened hers, scanning the menu. She couldn’t focus on what she was reading, not with John still watching her from across the table, so she settled for the first thing she saw. “Margherita pizza, please.”

“I think I’ll have the bolognese,” John said. 

“Of course,” the waiter said, writing down their orders before he left again. 

“So, Abbie, I have to admit, I’m a little intrigued about you. A New York journalist from a small American town with an English accent?” He leaned forwards a little, pinning her with that intense gaze.

She let out a short laugh, looking down. “It’s not all that interesting. My parents moved here right after they married, so I grew up here, but I picked up their accents. Then I realised there weren’t many journalism jobs nearby, so I moved to New York. What about you?”

He cocked his head. “What about me?”

“A mechanic raising two sons by himself who spends his evening in bars?”

“Maybe I was hanging around hoping to meet a beautiful lady to seduce.” His grin was wicked, but she wasn’t letting him off that easily.

“No, be serious. Tell me about your sons.”

“We’re on our first date and you want me to talk about my children?” When she nodded, he swallowed slightly abashedly, and it was reassuring to be back in control. “Well, Dean is eight and Sam is four. They’re good kids, I guess. I’m starting to teach Dean about- what I do.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say about them?” she questioned incredulously. 

He shrugged, squaring his shoulders defensively. “It’s difficult to know what to tell you! You’d have to meet them.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation?” she asked.

Suddenly, the grin was back on his face. “Only if you want it to be.”

Another thought occurred to her. “And- and their mother?”

Something in his eyes drew away from the question, and he sat back in his seat. “Her name was Mary. She died when Sam was about six months old.” He made no move to continue or to speak again, and they sat silently for a few minutes. Her mind was whirring, trying to think up a sensible response. She settled for reaching for the hand he’d left on the table. 

“I’m sorry,” she told him quietly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

With a visible effort, he smiled at her. “No, it’s fine. You were right to want to know. You’d have found out eventually, anyway. If we want to go on seeing each other, that is?”  
His eyes found hers again, and this time they were full of hope. They nearly took her breath away. 

“I do. I really do.”

“Good. I don’t want to be the only one feeling that desperate.”

“Hey! I’d hardly call it desperation!” she laughed. They continued to tease each other like that until their food arrived. The conversation was easier than any she’d had before- it was easy to get wrapped up in him, in his smooth voice, in his easy laugh.

While they were eating, he turned the topic back to her. “So tell me about your parents.”

Her hand stopped, the fork hovering halfway above the pizza. “There’s not a lot to tell. They’re pretty ordinary, really.”

He seemed to have forgotten his food, all of his attention fixed on her again. She was beginning to get used to it. “There must be something you can tell me about them. What did they think about you moving to New York?”

She put the fork down whilst she considered the question. “I’ve been there a few years, but I think my mum’s still getting used to it. She thinks I work too hard, that I should move back home and get an easier job.”

“And your dad?”

“He’s quite laid-back. He doesn’t really mind what I do or where I go, as long as I keep in touch. Mum does her best to get him on her side, I think.”

“What is her side?”

Immediately, she thought of the argument they’d had the day before, and rolled her eyes. “Oh, she thinks I should be settling down. In her world, any woman not married after the age of thirty is wasting her life. To her, my work is just a stop-gap before I find a guy.”

“That must be pretty hard to live with.”

“She means well. In a way, it’s nice to know that she cares that much. It’s just that…”

“You wish she’d see that you’re living life the way you want to?”

She stared at him, surprised. “Yeah. I just need a little space from her plan sometimes.”

“Hey, anyone could understand that.”

He was watching her warmly, and she shook herself back to awareness. “Sorry, I don’t mean to go on about myself. What about you, what about your parents?”

“My dad was a deadbeat, I haven’t seen him since I was four. Mom…she didn’t cope well with it. Died of a stroke when I was in Vietnam.” He shook his head at her expression.   
“Don’t look at me like that, we were never close. She blamed me for my dad leaving.”

It was probably better not to push it, she thought. 

“And Vietnam? You must have been quite young.”

His smile came back, proud this time. “I joined the marines when I was eighteen. I don’t know where I would have ended up if I hadn’t served. Jail, probably.”

The journalist inside her stirred. If she were working, this would be an interesting story.

“You got close to jail?”

“I started stealing stuff to get my mom’s attention. It didn’t work, but when I was seventeen, I ended up in a young offender’s place run by an ex-marine. He taught me some mechanics, and showed me that if I didn’t clean my act up, I’d be in jail the rest of my life. I joined up on my birthday.”

“And fighting in a war? You never questioned whether it was right or not?”

“No, not really. I trusted my superiors to make the right call.”

“What was Vietnam like?”

“Hot. Stuffy. But the men I was with were good fun…hang on, are you interviewing me?”

She pressed her lips together, shaking her head furiously. But he only laughed. 

“You are, aren’t you? Clearly your mum’s right. You are too into your job.”

“Take that back!” she told him, trying to slap at his arm. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to do it. It’s just habit.”

“Never mind, it’s cute. Although,” the laugh dies on his lips, “please don’t actually publish anything.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. I didn’t write anything down. I wouldn’t remember enough details. I am sorry, though.”

He laughed again. “Don’t be. I have to say, you’re not half bad at your job.”

“Thanks,” she said. 

He excused himself to go to the toilet, and she was left alone at the table. Funny, but she was finding it much easier to talk than usual, she though idly. Normally she’d clam up after a few minutes talking about herself. It was like he was coaxing the sentences out of her.

She couldn’t stop a smile spreading across her face as she thought about him. She leaned back against her seat, and let herself relax.

Was she getting too attached to him? She didn’t know, but at this point, she didn’t really care. 

She spotted him walking back across the restaurant, but as he got close to their table, he stopped and stared at something out of the window. He stood like that for a few seconds, then headed straight outside. Curiosity stirred inside her, and she turned to watch where he went.

There was a burly man stood in the carpark, arms folded, staring at John as he went outside. John’s shoulders were stiff, and he kept his arms stiffly by his sides. 

The man immediately moved forward, gesturing urgently. John moved back slightly, keeping his hands open as he spoke. Eventually, he turned and headed back towards the restaurant, rubbing the back of his neck. The other man stayed where he was.

“Hey. Are you okay?” she asked as he approached the table. “Whatever that was looked pretty intense.”

He closed his eyes, tipping his head up. “You saw that?”

She nodded. “Sorry. I was- you looked stressed.”

“Yeah. About that.” He sighed, rocking back on his heels. “It looks like I’m gonna have to ditch on you.”

“What? Why?”

“That was- uh- my wife’s cousin. Mary’s cousin, I mean. He was looking after the boys, and something’s come up. I need to get back to them.” 

Her heart clenched. “Right.”

He moved to her side, crouching down at the side of the table to grab one of her hands. “I wouldn’t go if I had a choice. I really wouldn’t. I’ve had a great night. Thank you.”

“No,” she shook her head. “If it’s your children, you have to go. I understand. And I had a great night, too.”

“Good. That’s good. You know, I still feel kind of guilty, though.”

“Don’t be, it’s fine, really…” She trailed off as he placed his finger over her lips. Her body went still, but her heart began to beat double-time. 

“No, let me finish. I still feel guilty, and you’re leaving soon. So if you tell me where you’re staying, I’ll pick you up and take you somewhere tomorrow night.”

Slowly, she began to smile again. “Where will you take me?”

He stood up. “Now that would ruin the surprise. Do I take that as a yes?”

“No.” She pulled a serviette closer to her and scribbled her parents’ address on it. “You take that as a yes.”

The joy in his expression was blinding. “Brilliant.” Then he turned to look at the man waiting in the carpark, who was tapping his foot. “But I really have to go now.”

His joy faded away, replaced by something like apprehension. It was such a heart-wrenching expression that she couldn’t stop herself from leaning forward to give him a soft kiss.   
Every nerve in her body seemed to come alive at once, firing through her body and making her whole self shiver. 

He was still for a second before relaxing into the kiss, his arms reaching behind her back. She felt him smile against her lips before he pulled away. 

“You better come back tomorrow,” she murmured into his ear.

“Oh, you can count on that. I couldn’t stay away from you for too long,” he replied. 

After they paid and left the restaurant, she sat in the car for a moment, thinking.

His last words had reminded her of something.

There was no way they could keep this going. She was going back to New York. She couldn’t get too used to this, because she’d be gone soon. And who knew where he would go?  
Yet even as those thoughts went through her head, she knew she’d be home when he arrived tomorrow, because when she looked at him, she saw a future. Even if she didn’t know how it would be possible, she saw a future.

It would take a lot to make her give up on it.


	4. What Have You Done?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A birthday is celebrated. It goes very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I know's it's been a while again, but this chapter was hard to write. I'm away next week but I'll update as soon as I can- after all, things are getting interesting now.

As last days go, it was a good one. 

That was the thought she held onto in the days afterwards.

The morning after the date was her father’s birthday. It took her a moment to remember when she first woke up, because her mind was too busy replaying the kiss. John had kissed her. 

Here we go again, she thought wryly. She was not going to behave like a lovesick teenager today. Her parents were probably tired enough of that after last night. Despite the night’s abrupt end, she’d come home floating on a cloud, and she didn’t think she’d come down in the whole evening. 

No, today was going to be all about her father. Determined to follow through on her decision, she got out of bed and rummaged in her bag for his present- an expensive brand of whisky only available in New York. It also happened to be his favourite. It was still early, so if she was quiet, she’d be able to make breakfast for both of them before they woke up.   
Once she’d pulled on a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt, she hurried downstairs. The tiles of the kitchen floor were cold against her feet, and sunlight was just beginning to stream through the window. She hummed to herself as she cooked, frying the bacon and emptying beans into a jug. Her flat in New York was too small for a proper kitchen, so this was a nice luxury. 

Before she was finished, the sound of movement behind her startled her. She whirled around, only to find her dad looking at her. 

“Oh, morning, Dad,” she said, turning back to the cooking. “Sorry, did I wake you up? I was trying to give you and Mum a surprise.”

“No, you didn’t wake me up. I couldn’t sleep. I was hungry.” His voice was oddly monotone.

“Well, yes. I thought you might be, that’s why I’m making this. I thought you might appreciate a treat today.”

“Why, what’s today?”

She laughed, and was just turning towards him when she realised that he was completely serious. He was regarding her curiously, not the hint of a smile in his eyes.

“It’s your birthday. Don’t you remember?” she frowned. 

His eyes lit up, and he burst into loud laughter. “Of course I remembered! I was just messing with you!”

She laughed uncertainly with him, a little unsettled by the sudden switch in mood. Unsure of what to say next, she focused on breakfast instead. He didn’t say anything else, so she decided that he must have been tired. 

“Since you’re up, would you mind helping me take Mum breakfast?” she asked once she had finished. 

“Of course,” he replied flatly. He was staring at her again, she noticed with a shiver.

“Dad, are you sure you’re alright? If you’re not, we can go back to bed and do this later.”

“Yes, I’m fine. Stop fussing,” he snapped.

She frowned, a little hurt. “Don’t look at me like that,” he told her. 

A retort rose to her lips, but she swallowed it. It was his birthday, she reminded herself. No doubt he’d be fine tomorrow. 

He carried the drinks behind her as she carried the breakfast upstairs. When they reached the crowded little bedroom, she left the trays on a table as she kissed her mother’s forehead. She stirred sleepily, her eyes taking a moment to focus on Abbie. 

“Morning, sweetheart. What’s this?”

“I thought I’d make you both breakfast, since it’s Dad’s birthday, but he caught me in the act,” she smiled.

“Thank you! It’s a lovely surprise,” her mother said warmly. “Joshua, why don’t you come and join me?”

Her dad moved round to the other side of the bed, getting next to her mother. She had to laugh at his startled expression when Mum curled into his side. 

She placed the trays on the bed and left the drinks on the bedside table. “I’m going to take a shower. See you downstairs,” she told them.

“Okay,” replied her mother.

The water was warm and relaxing, allowing her to shake off the unease she’d felt at her father’s behaviour. Instead, she wondered where John was going to take her tonight. There was a comedy which had been released quite recently, and had had good reviews. Perhaps he would take her to see that. 

She finished the shower and dressed in a slightly dressier top and trousers, taking the time to brush her hair. Picking up the present, she carried it downstairs to the kitchen. A few more were already piled on the table, and her mother was washing the pots. Wordlessly, she picked up a tea-towel and began to dry.

“Your father’s in bit of a strange mood today,” her mother commented.

“Yes, I thought so too. Why, what’s he said to you?”

“Oh, he was a bit distant, and he asked if I’d heard about any strange disappearances in the area. I left him in bed. Who knows, he might just need a rest.”

“Probably,” she agreed. “After all, you are both getting on a bit.”

“Oi!” Mum laughed. “Don’t be cheeky, miss.”

“Of course not!” joked Abbie. “What have you got him for a present, anyway?”

“Oh, a few books he wanted, a new coat and a pint glass. He broke his old one last month. We’ll go out for dinner tonight, too.” 

“Good. I need time to pack.”

“How much could you have unpacked in three days?” her mother asked sceptically.

“Oh, you know me. If I don’t pack properly, I’ll leave something behind.”

“Then you’ll just have to come back soon, won’t you?” Mum was joking, but an undercurrent of wistfulness ran through her voice. 

“Of course I will,” Abbie replied gently. “Are we making a cake?”

“That’s a good point,” her mother said, accepting the change in conversation. “Would you like to help me do it now, before he comes downstairs?”

“Okay,” she agreed. As they got the ingredients together, they heard the shower starting up upstairs.

“So tell me more about this boy you’re dating,” Mum said.

An absent-minded smile spread over her face, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s hardly a boy, Mum. John’s a mechanic, he’s a bit older than me, and he has two sons. He’s a real gentleman, too, the kind of man who’d pull out your chair for you.”

“Children? What about their mother?” she asked sharply. 

“Don’t worry about that, Mum. She’s dead, apparently.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Do we get to meet him?”

“Not if you’re going to interrogate him, no,” she replied defensively.

“I just want to be sure he’s the right man for you, Abbie!”

“Can’t you trust me to make my own decisions about things like that?” she snapped.

There was a second of silence, before she sighed. “He’s picking me up for a date tonight. I might be able to persuade him to come in and meet you before.”

Her mother nodded, expression softening into regret. “Just as long as he doesn’t hurt you. You’re seeing him again tonight? That’s a bit soon, isn’t it?”

“We don’t know how often we’ll be able to see each other once I got back home, especially because he travels a lot. It makes sense to make the most of the time we’re close to each other.”

“I suppose so. Does the distance worry you?” She looked straight at her, and Abbie realised that she knew her better than she thought.

“A little,” she admitted. “I can’t see how it will work if we can’t see each other very often.”

“Well, if it’s supposed to happen, then it will. You just have to stop worrying and trust that you’ll find a way to make it work.”

Abbie considered the advice for a second, surprised to find that it was actually quite reassuring. She knew that they would find a way for it to work, if they wanted to. And she did.

“Thank you. I think Dad’s out of the shower. Do you want me to get this finished while you get dressed?”

“That’s a good idea. Thanks, love.” She pressed a kiss to her cheek and was gone.

Once the cake was in the oven, she cleared up and began to arrange the presents on the coffee table in the lounge. By the time her parents came downstairs, she was curled up in an armchair with a cup of tea. 

“Happy birthday, Dad,” she smiled as he came in. His eyes widened a little. 

“All of this for me? I think my girls have been spoiling me,” he beamed. His mood seemed to have lifted, and a glance at the smile on her mum’s face proved it. 

They sat together whilst he opened his presents, praising each of them happily. Once Abbie’s present, the last one, had been opened, he got to his feet and stretched.  
“Do I smell cake?”

The two women laughed. “Yes, you do. But you’ll have to wait, because it’s not ready yet,” her mother replied. 

“I think I’ll make a cup of tea, then. Abbie, would you be as kind as to pop to the shops and buy a paper for me?” he asked. 

“Of course,” she replied. “Anything for the birthday boy.”

He left, and Mum said “Actually, would you mind finding some cake candles too, please? I could have sworn we had some, but I must be forgetting things in my old age.”

“Sure. See you in a bit.”

She fetched her purse from upstairs, but before she could get out of the door, the phone rang. “I’ll get it!” she called.

“Abbie?” said John’s voice as she picked up. She decided to have some fun.

“No, you must have a wrong number. I don’t know anyone called Abbie,” she said in the poshest voice she could manage.

“Oh,” he stammered. She barely held back a laugh as he continued, “I’m so sorry, I could have sworn it was this number I called before, but I must have been mistaken. I’m sorry.”

“Wait!” she said before he could hang up. A stray giggle escaped her, and before she knew it, she could barely control her laughter. “It’s me, it’s Abbie. I was just…” she couldn’t finish, too busy laughing.

She could hear him fighting to keep back his own laugh. “Oh, I see. You though you’d take advantage of me,” he teased, mock stern.

“Yes. I just couldn’t resist,” she replied once she got her breath back. “Oh, I’m sorry, John. You must think I’m so rude. Please don’t dump me.”

“I have no intention of dumping you, but,” he sighed, “I’m afraid I do have to cancel our date tonight.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” she said, the laughter suddenly taken from her. “Why?” Now it was a fight to keep him from hearing the disappointment. 

“Please don’t think any worse of me, but there’s been an accident at work. I need to cover an emergency shift.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” she reassured him. “Of course work’s more important. We’ll have to find another time to meet.” Even as she was saying it, she was trying to think when it would be possible to meet up. Nothing came to mind immediately.

“I’m so sorry, I was really looking forward to it. I’d ask work if they could find someone else, but…”

“No, don’t do that!” she said urgently. “If they need you, they need you. You’ll just have to come to New York, I guess.” 

She could hear him trying to keep his voice steady. He knew as well as she did that it would be near impossible. “Yeah, I will. I’m looking forward to it.”

They hung on in silence for a second, neither wanting to hang up. She couldn’t help thinking that she might never hear his voice again.

Once she’d given him her New York number, she said “Well, then. You should probably go. Goodbye, John.”

“Bye, Abbie. I will see you soon.” There was a promise in his voice, and she wished she could be as certain as he was. Her mum’s earlier words were suddenly a whole lot more difficult to believe in. 

There was a lump in her throat as she made her way to the middle of town, where there was a street of shops. The corner shop she was headed to had been there since before she was born. The day seemed a lot colder than the day before had, and she wished she’d brought a coat out. That made her think of John’s leather jacket, and she nearly choked on her tears. 

When she got to the corner shop, the bell rang as she entered. It was as small and crowded as she remembered, which was somehow comforting.

“Hello, Abbie! It’s been quite a while!” Mrs Roberts, the shop owner, greeted her as she came in. “You’re back from the city?”

Clearly, she thought to herself. Instead, she said, “Yes, but I only came down for Dad’s birthday. I have to go back tomorrow.” Her smile felt forced.

“Of course! Be sure to wish him a happy birthday from me, would you?” When Abbie agreed, she carried on. “Well then, what can I help you with?”

She helped her to find the right items- somehow the shop always seemed to stock whatever was needed, but only Mrs Roberts could ever find it. Whilst she was buying them, she shopkeeper asked, “Did you hear about the body?”

“No, what body?” she asked absent-mindedly. John’s smile was playing on her mind.

“They found a body up near the graveyard. It looks like it was an animal attack,” she replied, clearly happy to have someone to share the news with. “Well, that’s what they’re saying. But the funny thing is, there are FBI agents and all sorts up there.”

“That’s nice,” she murmured. “I should get back, Dad will want his paper.”

She walked out the door, ignoring the affronted stare Mrs Roberts was directing at her back. No doubt she was offended, but she’d have forgotten it by the time Abbie was next in town. Abbie wasn’t in the mood for village gossip today.

When she got home, she went straight to the kitchen and dumped her bags before calling her parents. “Mum? Dad? I’m home!”

There was no reply. Maybe they’d gone out for dinner early, she thought. They’d forgotten to lock the door, though. 

The house was strangely silent, and unease began to build as she went to open the living room door. 

The sight behind it stayed with her for the rest of her life. 

The coffee table was overturned and leaning against a wall, and her father’s now blood-splattered presents were scattered across the lounge. A few pages of the books had been torn out and strewn across the floor. There was a large splatter of blood decorating the wall.

The most horrible sight, though, was that of her mother tied to a chair in the middle of the room. Blood was draining from twin gashes in her wrists, her head was dangling loosely and she was horrifyingly pale. 

She remained horror-struck for a moment, before rushing to her side and lifting her face up. “Mum? Mum, look at me!”

Her body began to tremble with shock, and her brain was working too slowly to wonder what had happened. All she could think of was her mother. The smell coming from her chair was going down her throat, making her want to retch. 

“Mum, please!”

“Don’t waste your breath. She’s not going to wake up.”

She darted behind the chair as the door opened and her father entered. His clothes were torn and wrinkled, and his eyes looked wild. But the only thing she really noticed was the smear of scarlet next to his mouth. 

Now numbness washed over her. She couldn’t process what she was seeing. He had to be able to explain it. He had to.

“Oh, I can explain it,” he said. She hadn’t realised she’d been speaking aloud. There was a strange buzzing in her ears. “You see I’m not your dad. Your daddy’s dead, sweetheart. And now so is your mummy.”

“N- no,” she stammered. “You’re l-lying. This is a joke.”

“Oh, is it?” asked another voice. Mrs Roberts, the kindly old woman she’d known all her life came to stand behind- not her dad. The monster. Their eyes gleamed with the same feral hunger.

“This is no joke, sweetheart. But don’t worry. You’ll see your parents again soon.”

“Please, no. Leave me alone. Please.”

They shared a look with each other, and Mrs Roberts- no, not Mrs Roberts –laughed unpleasantly. “No. I don’t think so. I’m hungry, you see. Your dad’s just helping me feed.”

“He’s n-not my dad.” A sob hitched in her throat. 

“Oh, caught on, have you?” The man rolled his eyes, and began to advance. She got to her feet, looking around for anything that could be a weapon. Her gaze fell on a letter-opener, and she grabbed it with both hands. 

“Stay away from me!”

Faster than she could see, the thing that wasn’t her father flew at her, wrestling her arms behind her back. Close up, it had an awful musty smell. She felt something hot roll down her cheek as it made her drop the blade.

“Haven’t you been listening to us? No, we won’t.”

Mrs Roberts came towards her, a silver knife gleaming in her hand. “Now, don’t worry, sweetheart. This won’t hurt- for long, anyway. And you’ll see your parents again, won’t that be nice?”

She struggled, but the thing holding her was inhumanly strong. She closed her eyes and began to sob as Mrs Roberts closed in. 

There was a bang and something else barged into the room. She had to wonder how many of her friends these creatures had managed to impersonate. But when the one holding her hissed, she opened her eyes. 

Facing off with the other creature, a machete held tightly in his hand, was John. The other man from last night stood behind him. 

The creature that looked like Mrs Roberts launched itself at them, again unbelievably fast, but John was already stepping out of the way. The other man swung his machete, and somehow managed to take off her head. Abbie’s stomach heaved as it thudded to the floor.

The other one growled in her ear and yanked her head back. She felt the cold pressure of a blade against her throat, and her body froze in fear. 

Oh, god, please no…

“Let her go,” John snarled. 

“No. You just killed my mate, so I think I’ll kill yours,” it replied. But before it could draw the knife across her throat, she sank an elbow into its stomach. Taken aback, it let go, and she hurtled across the room and curled into a ball. 

There was another thud, and she let out a sob. Tears were rolling freely down her cheeks. The image of her mother’s body was seared onto the backs of her eyelids.

A hand touched her shoulder, and she opened her eyes to see John crouched next to her.

“Abbie. Oh, Abbie. You’re safe now. I promise.”

She didn’t have the strength to sit up. There were a thousand questions she could ask, but only one was on her lips.

“What have you done?”


	5. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie tries to cope with her parents' deaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite short, and it's not my best, but it's been a while. Sorry about that :)

She sat up slowly, her arms wrapped around her chest. John was in front of her, but behind him she could see his friend carrying something away. There were spots of blood on his shirt. She turned away, heaving.

“Abbie.” John’s voice was soft, and filled with dread. “Abbie, please listen to me.”

“Get away from me.” Her voice shook, so she tried again. “Get away from me!” 

She felt numb, like nothing could touch her again. Already her mind was replaying the sound the machete had made as it sliced through her father’s neck. She didn’t understand. How had everything gone so horribly wrong so fast?

“Abbie…” he sounded lost for words. “Please.”

He reached a hand towards her, but before he could touch her she saw the blood still drying on his blade and recoiled. 

“Get AWAY!” She sprung to her feet and ran out of the room, falling to her knees just outside the front door. The cold air washed over her, and she gulped it down frantically.

She kept going over and over what she’d seen. It made no sense. They’d been happy together just hours ago. She couldn’t process it, it had happened too fast.

Once she’d been sat there for a few minutes, John came outside and sat next to her. She started to get to her feet, but he spoke before she could get away.

His voice was rough, heavy. “Abbie, I get that you’re angry and upset and in shock. What happened in there was awful, and I wish I could have avoided it. But please give me at least the chance to explain.”

Slowly, she sank back down. “I’m listening.”

As he started to speak, she kept looking ahead. She didn’t think she could trust herself to look at him without trying to attack him. 

“What I told you last night was the truth, mostly. I did serve in the Marines, I was a mechanic, I do have two sons. I just missed out…this, I guess. My wife, Mary, died in a house fire when Sam was six months old, and they thought it was just an accident. But I was in the nursery right before the house went up, and Mary…Mary was pinned to the ceiling, bleeding from her stomach.”

His voice cracked, but shock had her frozen where she sat. She felt detached, like she was in some kind of horrific dream.

“I got the boys out, but I knew there was nothing human that could have done that to her. And I couldn’t let it go. I spent the next few months moving from place to place, doing as much research as I could, and eventually I ran into another hunter. He taught me the ropes. My boys and I have been on the go ever since. 

“A few months ago, someone told me about a bunch of disappearances around this area. I’ve been researching and tracking these things for a few months, and last night Mick- that’s the guy I’ve been hunting with, the guy you saw –told me he thought he’d tracked them to this town. This morning, when they found the body, we found the guy’s name and address and ended up here. Obviously we were too late. If I’d had any idea it was your family…”

“So those…things. What were they?” The whole conversation felt unreal.

“Ghouls. They eat their victims, and take their shape. Abbie… I’m sorry.”

A shiver ran through her as she processed what he was saying. He put his arm around her, and after a minute she shifted a little closer.

“So, that night in the bar…”

He looked at her. “I just needed a drink. We weren’t getting anywhere with the case, and this life…it takes it out of you.”

Swallowing, she asked, “And when you saw me…”

A small smile played on his lips. “I saw someone who looked like she needed company. Then we started talking, and I couldn’t let you go.” His face fell serious again. “I never wanted you to get dragged into all of this.”

The regret in his voice and on his face was sincere, and it managed to touch something deep inside her.

“I believe you.” She took a deep breath. “What happens now?”

“We’ll deal with all the legal stuff. We’ve got practice. After that, I guess it’s up to you.”

The future seemed terrifyingly blank to her. She was alone now. 

“What do you think you’ll do?” he asked her gently. She just shook her head. 

She should have expected the nightmare that came that night, once the police and ambulances had left and she was alone in bed. Once she was asleep, the ghouls came to visit again, whispering in her ear and stabbing her parents while she watched. 

John, who’d stayed the night, came running into her room once he heard her screaming and shook her awake. For a few minutes, all she could do was shake in his arms as he murmured reassurances into her hair.

There was no hint of romance. It looked like the ghouls had killed that, too, because once she was calm again he went straight back to his own room.

Tiredness and grief blurred the days into one huge mess of early morning jogs and paperwork and well-meaning condolences. Later, she would find that the only day that stood out was the day John left on another hunt. 

He’d gone back to his children after those first few days, but continued to drop in until he found a new case. That morning, he dropped in the way he had been doing, and the look in his eyes told her that something was wrong.

“What is it?” she’d asked as he leaned against her counter. 

He rubbed his forehead, frowning. “A new case. I can find someone else to take it, but…”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is your job, John. You need to move on. I’ll be fine.”

He just furrowed his brow, staring at her anxiously. She sighed. “When are you leaving?”

“If I take the case…”

She stood a little straighter. “Well, you are taking the case. When?”

“Today,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Then go.”

He just looked at her for a few seconds before striding towards her and engulfing her in a hug. She clung to him, drinking in the familiar scent she’d come to rely on. 

“I’m leaving you my phone number,” he told her. “And just hang on a second…”

He pulled away and rummaged in his pocket for something, eventually extracting a silver charm on a chain.

“If you wear this, it will keep you safe from demons and some other things. I don’t want to have to worry about you.”

She nodded, wordlessly turning around and lifting the hair away from her neck. Moving forwards, he put his arms around her and fastened it. She kept herself very still, trying to avoid touching him. In her ear, his breathing quickened. 

Once he had finished, he stepped back and looked at her like he was trying to remember every little line on her face. “Take care of yourself, Abbie.”

She nodded wordlessly. “You, too. Be careful. Don’t get yourself killed.”

A frown passed over his face. “I can’t promise, but I’ll do my best.”

Then he had left, and she’d followed his back all the way down the path. 

After John was gone, she was truly alone. She stayed in the town for a few more weeks, organising the funerals and sorting out her parents’ affairs. Along with their home, she’d inherited a fair amount of money and another property near Kansas that they’d rented out. The final thing she did was arrange for the house, her childhood home, to be rented too. It was strange, knowing that strangers would soon be living there. She couldn’t help feeling that the last link to her childhood was gone. 

She knew that she never wanted to go back once she was gone. 

On her first day back in New York, the noise and bustle was soothing. It helped to disguise the emptiness she still felt, more so than the stifling sympathy of her home town.   
It was while she was in bed, trying to sleep, that the overwhelming loneliness hit her. She was alone. Even in the middle of that huge, bustling city, she was alone.  
Since the deaths of her parents, she hadn’t cried once. 

Days passed. They felt just as nondescript as the ones in Rochester had. The only difference was that, without John, the nightmares slowly began to deprive her of her sleep.   
New York began to feel stifling, oppressive. She knew barely anything about the people she spent her days with. For all she knew -for all she cared- they could well be ghouls or any other type of monster, too. The noise, the crowds- everything she’d loved about New York was turning sour. 

The idea of monsters had begun to dominate her thoughts, both waking and sleeping. Now that she knew they were real, and dangerous, they haunted every minute of her day. Was this how John had felt, after the death of his wife? She didn’t know how he had stood it. 

In snatched spare minutes between writing reports, she began to research them- every type of monster she could think of. She began to keep a notebook, documenting everything she found. 

Working at a newspaper meant that she could keep an eye out for anything that might be out of the ordinary. The first case of a kidnap and murder, where the suspect swore he had been out of town, passed her by, but gradually she began to notice similar cases creeping in. 

She did more research into the string of cases. They always involved rich, young couples in isolated places, and one partner always claimed to have been busy or out of town when their partner was killed.

The final straw was the video footage police claimed to be “suspicious” and a claim by one suspect that he’d seen a “clone” of himself in the days before the murder. It didn’t take her long to identify the culprit as a shape-shifter, and only a few more evenings and a favour from the police department to track it down. 

She had originally intended to pass the case on to John once she was sure of it, but the more she read the more confident she was that she could handle it. Being a New York girl, she could easily use a gun, and she was hardly unfit. 

Really, she thought later, it had been luck that the monster had been intending to attack the first couple she spoke to, and that it had already been disguised as the guy when she turned up asking questions. It had been pure adrenaline that had caused her to bring up the gun and shoot the shifter, and a coincidence that she’d managed to get it through the heart.

But none of that really mattered. She’d found a case, she’d caught the monster and she’d killed it.

It was the most alive she had felt in months. 

There was really no going back after that point. She got in touch with other hunters, started to train properly, sold her flat and quit her job. She even bought her very own camper van, thinking that it would mean she was never without somewhere to stay. Also, the space under the bed made a very convenient weapons storage space.   
After she knew she was leaving, it was like a weight had been lifted. The nightmares began to fade, and sleep became easier. The restlessness wore off, replaced by a focused calm.

The day Abbie Simmons left New York, she didn’t look back once.


	6. Sorry About The Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a couple of years have passed, Abbie and John see each other again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's quite angsty. I'm sorry for drawing this out, but...

1989

Abbie circled the werewolf in front of her, body tensed. 

He snarled, and pulled his lips backs to show his teeth. If he wanted to scare her, it wouldn’t work- she’d seen much worse than him these past couple of years. If anything, she just found his bloodied teeth kind of disgusting. 

He began to advance on her, backing her into a wall. Presumably he thought he had the advantage, because her gun was lying on the ground well out of reach.   
A few years ago, he might have been right.

Instead, as he pounced on her, she used all her strength to drive her knife up into his heart. He looked down and let out a low whimper before crumpling to the floor.

She took a deep breath and sagged against the wall, giving her heartbeat time to recover. Then she looked down at her stomach, where one of its claws had snagged her stomach- it was deep, but not dangerous. She’d be able to fix it up once she was back at the van. There was nothing she could do for the shirt, though. Pity.

Savouring the rush of adrenaline flooding her bloodstream, she walked over to the werewolf’s body and pulled out her knife. As she wiped it clean on its clothes, she studied its face. The man was several years younger than her, and she felt a twinge of regret. 

It vanished in an instant. He was trying to rip out your throat, she reminded herself. The human he’d been would be happy to be dead.

On her way out of the warehouse, she passed several similar bodies, studying them detachedly. Idly, she wondered what the police would make of it when they were found in the morning. It didn’t really matter. They would never link it back to her, mostly because she’d be long gone.

She’d stolen someone’s car to get here, because her own camper van was too conspicuous to be left outside a hunt scene. The plan was to leave it a few streets away and walk back to where she’d left the van, where a warm bed was waiting. 

If she’d left a few minutes earlier, it would have been easy. As it was, just as she left the building, a sleek black car pulled up next to hers. She cursed silently, pulling her jacket tighter to hide the slash in her stomach. The pain was just beginning to hit her, and she reached back to the car to keep herself steady. Hopefully, the shadow of the building would hide her face.

A tall, burly man got out. He was standing just far enough from the streetlamps that she couldn’t see his face. 

“Can I help you?” she called.

“We got a report that this building had been broken into. May I ask who you are?” he replied, his voice betraying no emotions.

Crap. She couldn’t run, not now she’d spoken to him. She’d never get the car started in time.

“My family owns this warehouse,” she bluffed. “I heard about the break-ins in this area and wanted to check that our things were still intact.”

“You look like you need a hand there, miss,” he said, coming forward and gesturing to her stomach. She looked down to see blood still covering her hand. “Can I ask what happened?”

She was about to invent an explanation when she looked at his face properly for the first time. She gasped, and thought she sagged a little further against the car.

“Oh, my god…John?”

He immediately stiffened. As he came further forward into the light, his brow furrowed. “Abbie?”

“Well, thank god for that. I thought I was in actual trouble there,” she muttered.

John’s face was a little more lined, his hair cut shorter, and a new scar crept up from below the neckline of his t-shirt. His face was incredulous.

“Abbie, I don’t…what are you doing here?”

“Hunting, dumbass. Just like you, it seems.” She tried to move, but pain shot through her abdomen, making her gasp.

“Hey, hey, careful,” John said, coming forward to steady her. He whistled as he caught sight of her wound. “You need a hand there?”

“Nah, I’m good,” she forced out between gritted teeth. “I just need to get back to my van.”

“Where is it?” he asked. He had come to stand next to her, letting her lean on him. 

“A few streets away. I was- gonna walk…”

“Oh, no. You’re not walking anywhere in this state. Look, come back to my motel with me, and we can pick your van up tomorrow.”

He had used the same tone of voice the day he’d explained about his job. She flinched away from the memory. 

“No, really. I’ll be okay,” she protested. She tried to pull herself away from his grip, but when she stumbled he followed her.

“Don’t be stubborn. You can’t take care of this by yourself, and I won’t let myself be responsible if you die.”

Firmly, he led her towards his car and made her get in. She was too lightheaded to fight him off. 

“John- honestly, you don’t have to…” She trailed off weakly.

“Stop arguing and try to concentrate on not bleeding all over my car,” he replied as he got in. She rolled her eyes, settling further into the seat.

The silence in the car seemed to hang around them, and if it wasn’t for the slash in her stomach, she would have found it uncomfortable. As it was, she was having a hard time staying conscious.

“You hanging in there?” asked John after a few minutes.

She nodded, managing to breath out a low “Yes.”

“Well, we’ll be there soon. Just don’t die on me before then.” He hesitated, then plunged right into his next sentence.

“Abbie, what happened to you? You never called, so I went back to your house and the people living there hadn’t spoken to you in months…” The words came out in a rush, and she knew he’d probably been holding them in since he saw her.

“I…what happened two years ago changed me, John. I couldn’t just go back to my old life and act like nothing happened.”

“No, I understand that. I couldn’t go back, either, after Mary died. But- hunting?” His voice was raw with anxiety.

“It was the only way I could cope. I was in a bad place, I could barely get up in the mornings. This gave me a purpose.” She stumbled on the words, not liking the memories of those awful months.

At her side, he swallowed. “You could have called me. If you wanted to hunt, that is.”

“John, I…” She couldn’t find the right words to go on.

“We’re here,” he said after a few more minutes. He got out of the car and walked around to her side, helping her to put her arm around his shoulders before she got out of the car. She let out a small gasp as the movement pulled at the wound.

“Hey, easy. I‘ve got you,” he murmured. Together, they walked to the door, and he knocked on it sharply. “Dean? It’s me?”

The door opened a crack, and a small boy with light brown hair and startlingly bright green eyes peered out at them. “Dad?”

“Yeah. Run and get the stuff for stitches, would you?”

He let the door open wider and ran back into the room, whilst John helped Abbie to a bed just inside. One of the three beds in the room was already taken up by another child- all Abbie could see of him was the back of his head.

John handed her a bottle of whisky, and she took a grateful gulp. Dean came back, holding a box of supplies, and then perched on the bed next to her. As his dad peeled her shirt away from her stomach, he asked, “What’s your name?”

His matter-of-fact tone took her aback a little. He must be used to this kind of thing, she realised. “I’m Abbie.”

“Were you fighting those werewolves Dad was after?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath as John began to clean the wound. “Yeah, I was. Your dad found me outside.”

“Dean, leave her alone. Go to sleep,” John said sharply. Dean’s face fell, but he nodded. Abbie gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, but which probably looked more like a grimace. He scurried off into the bathroom.

“John, about what I said before…” she started, but he cut her off.

“Don’t worry. You don’t have to explain. I should’ve guessed. What happened to you, that was too much, I guess.”

Her hands curled into the sheets as he began to stitch her up. “No, I want to explain. I wanted to call you, I really did. When I decided I wanted to hunt, you were the first person I thought of. But…I needed to get away from everything, John. Everything that was connected to the person I was. It wasn’t just you.”

He looked at her directly for the first time since they’d seen each other, and she saw guilt behind the steely resistance in his expression. “Whatever you say, Abbie. I just find it hard to believe that you don’t blame me for your parents’ deaths. I mean, why else would you just cut me off?”

He tied the thread off tightly and snipped it. She relaxed back into the mattress.

“I mean it, John. I needed space. Besides, it’s not like…we hardly knew each other! Not to mention that you lied to me!” She struggled to prop herself up on her elbows, but he gently pushed her back down. His eyes still seethed with resentment.

“Like I said, whatever you say. Get some sleep now, Abbie. We can talk in the morning.”

“Is that it?” she asked incredulously.

“Goodnight, Abbie.”

She lay awake for a few more minutes, stewing with frustration and mentally hurling curses at him. At some point, her exhaustion overcame her aching muscles and the still-sore stitches and she drifted into sleep.

It was still early when she woke. Dawn’s grey light was just creeping in past the curtains, illuminating the shape of John asleep on the sofa. The sight of him reignited her fury from last night; on a full night’s sleep, what he’d said to her seemed even more unreasonable.

The motel wasn’t far from where she’d left her van, so she decided to take her leave. Her blood-stained shirt was still on the floor, but she couldn’t very well wear it again. She crept to what she assumed was John’s suitcase and pulled out the first shirt she found to wear. 

There was a notepad and pen on the table near the door, and she wrote a note.

John,  
Thank you for taking care of me last night. Obviously it’s too hard for us to be around each other, after what happened, so I decided to make it easier on both of us. I’ll be long gone before you’re awake, so don’t worry.  
Thank you again.  
Abbie  
PS. Sorry about the shirt.


	7. Friends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets himself into a situation. Abbie finds him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but sweet(er). Maybe there's hope for these two after all :) And I actually updated on time for once!

A few months later

Abbie’s veins sang with adrenaline as she advanced on the ramshackle little building. Her breath fogged the air in front of her, and her boots crunched against frosted grass. She shifted the weight of the shotgun in her hand, keeping her eyes fixed on the door in front of her. She’d tracked down a bunch of demons hiding out here, and she was going to make sure that none of them got out alive.

She tipped the oil can clutched in her hand and began to circle the house, leaving a trail of oil behind her. When she got back to the front door, she took a deep breath, and dropped a match onto the oil. 

The whole circle lit up, throwing shadows over her face and the hut. A panicked yell came from inside the house, and she grinned. She would enjoy this one.

The door flew open and a demon charged at her. Barely even blinking, she raised the shotgun and fired. It staggered back, smoke rising from where the salt had pierced it. She strode forward and stood over it, aiming the shotgun at its face whilst she recited the exorcism. Black smoke poured from its mouth. The body on the floor was just stirring as she walked into the house itself.

 

The two demons inside each raised a hand as if to throw her across the room, but she was too fast. She emptied a shell full of salt into one and threw what was left of her holy oil at the other, following it up with a match. They each let out ear-piercing screeches, and recoiled from her as she spoke the exorcism again.

“Well, that was easy,” she muttered to herself as the smoke drained away from both of them. When she’d started hunting, she’d expected demons to be more of a challenge, but the ones she’d encountered so far had been almost amusingly easy to deal with.

She stalked through the rest of the house, looking for more to burn. She was almost positive that there had only been three in the hut, but that didn’t stop her from hunting for more.

One of the doors was locked, which caught her interest. The wooden door looked old and brittle, so she took a step back before leaping forward and slamming her foot through. The lock fell to the floor with a satisfying clunk.

The room was small and dark, and her eyes took a moment to adjust. Its windows were boarded, and wind whistled through gaps in the floor. Really, it was little more than a shed built onto the side of the hous. She shivered, wrapping her jacket around herself a little tighter.

In the middle of the room, a wooden chair faced away from her, and she could see that there was a figure tied to it. From its bulk, she assumed that it was a man, but his head was slumped onto his chest. When she walked into the room, she threw a small vial of holy water at him. He didn’t react.

She hurried forward and used her knife to cut through the knots. His wrists fell loosely to his sides, and she only just managed to get in front of him in time to stop him from collapsing onto the floor.

It was his scent that hit her first, the scent she hadn’t been able to forget for two years. Her heart contracted, and she held him away from her to study his face.

She let out a soft gasp.

John Winchester’s face was bloody and beaten, and even in unconsciousness, creased with pain. As she stared at him, his eyes flickered open and focused on her face.

“A-Abbie?” he slurred. Blood oozed from a crack in his lip.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she murmured, still half-dazed.

He half turned to something behind him.

“F-fire.”

She looked past him, and sure enough, fire licked at the doorway, which was beginning to blacken. Cursing, she heaved John to his feet and looked around for some way out. Whose stupid idea had it been to trap the demons with fire in a wooden shack?

The window. Of course. She eased John down to sit resting against a wall, then heaved the chair up and hurled it through the old wooden boards. 

Most of the middle ones collapsed, and she almost dropped to her knees with relief. She helped John back to his feet and together they staggered out into the forest. 

Of course, the ring of fire she’d made earlier was still there. She patted her pockets frantically, wishing she hadn’t splashed John with all the holy water she’d had left. Stupid, stupid woman, she scolded herself. Well, this should teach her.

There was a point near the back of the house where the fire wasn’t as intense or as high. Taking a deep breath, she shifted John’s weight so that she could run more easily and charged straight at the flames. Just on the other side, she staggered to a halt and looked down at herself.

No flames.

She heaved a sigh of relief, and it took all of her strength not to fall to the floor right there. Instead, she dragged John through the trees to her van. Her arms ached like crazy by the time she managed to haul him onto a seat.

Once he was lying down, he stirred again.

“Abbie…”

“Yeah, still here,” she soothed him, rummaging underneath the seat for a medical kit. Once she found it, she sat next to him and got ready to clean him up, but his hand flew out and caught her wrist. Her breath hitched at the feel of his rough fingers.

“Thought you were a dream…”

“Nah, a dream couldn’t have gotten you out of there. Now lie still.”

He did as she told him, his head flopping back against the cushions as she got to work. She cleaned the blood from his face, working carefully around the bruises, then peeled off his shirt. Before she could stop herself, her eyes travelled down over his firmly muscled torso, and she only just stopped herself from reaching out to trace his abdomen with her fingers.

It seemed to take an age before she was finished, and the way his body kept distracting her was no help. She finished up by wrapping his broken ribs, then squeezed his shoulder gently.

“John? Hey, talk to me.”

He opened his eyes slowly, tried to move, and winced. 

“Careful,” she scolded gently. “Here, have a drink.”

She raised a water bottle to his lips, and he leaned upwards to gulp it down. “Okay, good. Now I need you to tell me where you were staying so that I can go find Sam and Dean. I’m sure they’re worried.”

“Motel nearby…” she gave him a pen and paper and he scribbled an address with shaky hands. “There.”

“Great. I’m going to leave you here while I drive us back, then, okay?”

He nodded.

She kept glancing back at him on the drive to his motel, afraid that she’d done something wrong. She was used to stitching up herself, but not so much other people. Every time she checked, he was watching her with an amused glance in his eyes.

When they got there and she climbed into the back to help him out, his hands caught her hips and pulled her down onto the seat.

“Abbie. Thank you.”

“Hey. You did the same for me.”

His eyes were full of remorse. “No, I mean- what I said to you. You were right. I had no right…”

“Well, maybe, but I shouldn’t have run out on you like that,” she admitted, heat scalding her cheeks. “I was like a child.”

“Your fighting wasn’t.”

“You heard that?”

His eyes brightened. “Could hardly not hear it. What happened to the humans?”

She shook her head. “I just wanted to finish the job.”

He paused, then looked straight at her. “Abbie, since your parents…did you ever…meet anyone?”

The memory of the last few years washed over her. There had been other men, but she’d pushed them all away. “No.”

Silence fell over the cramped little space for the next few minutes, before Abbie shook herself. “Come on. We should get you inside.”

He grunted a little as she helped him to his feet, but managed to stand without too much help. “Do you realise how heavy you are?” she teased.

“Or maybe you’re just not strong enough,” he retorted, a wicked glint in his eyes.

She laughed, shoving him a little. “Cheek! I should have left you in that hut if that’s all the thanks I get!”

“Oh, I can think of plenty more ways to thank you,” he told her, eyes darkening. She swatted at his arm. “Behave!”

They got to the door, and with some difficulty, John extracted keys from his pocket. He fitted them into the lock, and the door swung open.

Before they could get inside, the click of a shotgun stopped them in their tracks. They froze into place as the door swung open to reveal Dean pointing a shotgun at them, his hands trembling and his eyes wide.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice shaky. 

“Hey, Dean, hey. Calm it,” John told him reassuringly. “It’s me.”

“Show me your charm. Both of you.” He jabbed the shotgun forward.

Abbie put her hands to her neck slowly and pulled out the charm John had given her. Next to her, he did the same.

“See, Dean? We’re safe, I promise.”

The boy gave a sob and ran forward, dropping the gun on the ground behind him. Looking into the room, Abbie caught sight of his brother hiding behind the sofa, shaggy dark hair dangling in his eyes.

John let out a soft “oof” as Dean collided with his ribs. He held him for a few seconds, mumbling, “Hey. Careful.”

“What happened to you?” asked Sam. His eyes were wide and he’d folded his arms. “You promised you’d be back days ago!”

“Demons. Caught me off guard. Abbie turned up and saved me.”

Both boys’ attention shifted to her. Dean frowned. 

“You have soot on your nose.”

“Yeah, I probably do,” she agreed. It didn’t look like he remembered her. 

They got inside the room, and once the boys were settled, John turned to her. “Abbie, please stay the night. I don’t want to think of you driving off in the dark.”

They both knew what he was really saying- please don’t run away again. But if he wasn’t going to mention it, then neither was she.

“Sure. I’ll stay,” she agreed.

John’s face visibly relaxed. “Good. That’s good. So what would you like for dinner?”


	8. Family Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters turn up at Abbie's house. She has a problem with John's parenting skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I didn't update on Friday, I went away for the weekend and completely forgot...  
> On another note, the next chapter actually has a kind-of summary already. It should be up soon! Also, thanks for being so patient with the romance stuff. It's coming, I promise.

1991

She woke up to the sound of the phone ringing.

She lifted her head and stared blearily at the handset across the room, willing the noise to stop. Last night’s hunt had taken much longer than she had thought it would, and it had been three o’clock before she’d crawled into bed. The time now, according to the clock next to her, was seven o’ clock.

The phone wouldn’t be quiet, so she dragged herself across the room towards it. Her body felt like it had been hauled behind a car for miles. As she picked the receiver up, she sagged against the wall.

“John, I swear to god, if this isn’t a matter of life and death then I’m hanging up on you and throwing the phone out of the window.”

On the other end, John sounded far too awake for seven in the morning. “Good morning to you too, sweetheart. What would you have done if it wasn’t me?”

“No one else would be stupid enough to wake me up this early. It was a safe bet. What do you want?”

“A place to crash. I think I found a hunt near your house.”

“So go stay in a motel.”

He chuckled. “You really are tired, aren’t you?”

“I was on a hunt until three, jackass. I am shattered and sore and really, really want some more sleep. There is a perfectly respectable motel right down the road. Now would you please leave me alone?”

“I’ve brought coffee. And the boys are with me.”

She hesitated, frowning. “John, where are you?”

His cocky grin was practically audible. “Right outside.”

“Oh, for God’s sake…” She went to the window and yanked the curtains open. Sure enough, the Impala was parked on her drive, and John was grinning at her from the front seat. “I’m on my way down.”

She grabbed a sweater from the back of a chair and stomped downstairs. When she yanked the door open she was prepared to give John an earful, but stumbled backwards as Sam cannonballed into her.

“Auntie Abbie!”

Her words were lost, and she crouched down to return Sam’s hug. “Nice to see you too, Sammy.” Over his shoulder, she looked up at John. “You know, it’s really unfair to use your kids as human shields just ‘cause you’re afraid of me.”

He was holding a steaming cup of coffee and smirking at her. “Hey, I had good reason to be scared!”

“Damn right you did. I’m still bloody knackered.” Then she caught sight of Dean standing just behind his dad. “Hey, kid. Your dad’s a jerk.”

John made an insulted sound, but Dean grinned. “Yeah. I know.”

Prising Sam off her, she stood. “Well, then, you boys better come in. You don’t want to be standing around outside all day.”

As they all came inside, she swiped the coffee from John’s hands. “I’ll have this.”

“What if I wanted it?” he protested.

“I need it more. Suck it up.”

Sam and Dean made themselves at home immediately, going upstairs to squabble over who got the bed in the spare room and who’d have to sleep on the floor. Abbie leaned against her kitchen counter, and John grinned at her. 

“What was it last night, then?”

“Couple of out of control young werewolves. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Or at least, I could handle it if I’d had a bit more sleep.” 

He raised his hands as she glared at him. “Come on, what else was I supposed to do? We had to get out of our motel in a hurry and I need to apply for a new credit card.”

“This house is not a motel, John.”

“Might as well be. Do you honestly need all this space for one person?”

“Turns out it’s a good thing I do, or where would you have gone? Don’t insult my house, Winchester,” she growled.

“You’re cute when you’re angry,” he chuckled. 

She glared at him for a few seconds more, then abandoned the coffee as she hugged him. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” he grinned against her hair. “So I’m forgiven?”

“Once I’ve had my coffee you will be.” She pulled away. “What case have you found?”

“Some weird murders nearby. Suspects all say they were somewhere else at the time, but can’t prove it.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I bluffed my way into watching police CCTV and it looks like shifters. Unfortunately, they then found my police record.”

“And you did a runner.” She walked past him to throw away the cup, and shivered at the feel of his gaze on her back. When she turned back, he was watching her with that serious gaze.

She knew how he still felt about her. He wasn’t the best at hiding it. But every time she thought she could give it another go, she saw his expression as he killed her parents, and caught glimpses of red on his hands. Not to mention that hunting wasn’t often connected to loving, stable relationships.

No, she was happy to keep things as they were. John was her friend, and she was determined that that was what he would stay.

He took a step towards her. “Abbie, I…”

She turned her back, and kept her voice loud and cheerful. “I bet the boys are hungry. Go ask them if they want bacon.”

He hovered for a moment before leaving. Once he was gone, she leaned against the counter. In spite of her intentions, “just friends” became a little harder to maintain every time she saw him. 

After breakfast, she showered and dressed, then helped John with research for the case. Although she’d never admit it, she liked having the Winchesters come to stay. It seemed to bring her quiet little home alive. 

“Are you coming on the hunt then?” John asked later in the evening. She sat back in her chair, stretching. 

“Nah. I want to catch up on my sleep. Are you sure he’ll be there?”

“You’ve seen all the research I have. Yeah, I’m sure. Dean and I should be back around midnight.”

“Wait. You’re taking Dean?” She glanced over her shoulder, to where the two boys were watching a film in the lounge, and then back to John. He had stood and was collecting his blades, keeping his back to her.

“Well, yeah. He’s twelve. He has to learn this eventually, right?”

“No, John, he doesn’t! He’s still only a kid!”

John just shrugged. “It wasn’t my idea. He asked.”

“That doesn’t mean that you should let him. What we do is dangerous! And what about Sammy? Does he even know yet?”

He turned back to face her, regret sweeping over his expression. “Yeah, he found my journal and made Dean explain. He was pretty angry about it for a while. Abbie, I can’t drag them around with me without teaching them how to look after themselves.”

She could practically feel herself buzzing with anger. “They are children, John! What happened to you, to Mary, was horrible, but that doesn’t mean you have to make them into your own personal soldiers!”

“It has nothing to do with Mary- or with you, for that matter!” His hands were braced on the back of his chair and red was slowly flooding his face.

“You made it my business when you came into my home and told me that you’re planning to take a twelve-year-old to kill a creature that’s killed at least six people! It’s not just immoral, it’s irresponsible!”

“They’re not your children! Abbie, Dean wants to learn to hunt!”

“So are you going to turn Sam into a soldier, too?”

“Only if he wants to!”

“Auntie Abbie, it’s okay. I’m not scared. I want to do this. I want to be able to look after Sammy, to find whatever killed Mom.”

They both looked to the doorway, where Dean was stood. He was shaking a little, and his fists were clenched.

All the anger dropped out of her, and she walked over to hug him tightly. “Yeah, I get that. But you’re still only a kid, Dean. This shouldn’t be your fight.”

“But I can do it, Abbie. I can.”

“I don’t doubt that. My point stands, you shouldn’t have to.”

“But I want to. Please don’t fight with Dad. Look, just let me go tonight, and if I don’t like it I’ll stop, okay?”

“Dean…” The way he was speaking, trying his hardest to bargain like an adult, broke her heart. She turned away, pinching the bridge of her nose. It reminded her so much of the way she’d been after her parents’ deaths.

“John, if he gets hurt at all tonight, then you are never coming back here again. I won’t be held responsible for this.”

“No one’s holding you responsible.” He tried to come towards her and wrap her in his arms, but she pulled away.

“No. I don’t want to speak to you again tonight, or I’ll say something I’ll regret. Please, just go.”

He walked past her to join his son, hesitating in the doorway. “What about Sam? Should I take…?”

“No,” she snapped. “He’s staying here, because then I know that at least one of your sons is safe.”

She stayed where she was until she heard the door close behind them both, then went her into her living room.

“Auntie Abbie, is everything okay?” Sam was staring at her, wide-eyed. She managed to drag a smile onto her face as she fell onto the sofa.

“Yeah. I was just discussing something with your father.”

“They’ll be okay. They’ve done this before.”

She might just be imagining it, but she thought she caught a hint of bitterness in his tone. It left her cold. “Yeah, I know. John just shouldn’t be dragging you two into his fight. If I had my way, Sam, he would never have let you find out.”

“But I needed to know. They’ve been lying to me my whole life.” Now she definitely wasn’t imagining things. His voice burned with resentment. She slid onto the floor to sit opposite him.

“Sammy, listen to me. They were protecting you. This whole life, it…drags you down with it. Your childhood was damaged enough as it was. If you’d known, you would have been in so much more danger.”

He shifted a little closer, rubbing his eyes furiously. “I don’t need protecting! I needed the truth!”

“You needed a childhood, Sam. John was giving it to you the only way he knew how to. You know how much they both love you, right?”

He nodded, a tear trembling in the corner of his eye. “But what would have happened if something had gone wrong and they never came back?”

She shifted position so that she could hug him. He hid his face in her shoulder, and she could feel him shaking with sobs. 

“They would always have found a way home to you, kid. They will always find their way back.”

Eventually she managed to calm Sam down and get him to go to sleep. It wasn’t so easy for her, though, and despite the last night’s hunt she found herself still awake and watching TV just before midnight. Every so often she glanced at the clock, hoping against hope that she would hear the door opening. At half past twelve, she turned the TV off and began to pace around the room, various scenarios dashing through her mind.

Fifteen minutes later, the phone rang. She dashed to it before the first ring had faded away and held it to her ear.

“John?”

“Abbie?” Dean’s voice shook on the other end.

“Dean? Dean, what is it, what’s wrong?”

“The- the shifter, it…” he broke off and took a deep, shuddering breath. “There were two. We killed one but the other attacked Dad and it’s taken him somewhere and…”

“Okay, kid, deep breaths.” Her mind sharpened, the way it always did when she got ready for a hunt. “Are you hurt? Where are you?”

“No, I’m fine. The shifter didn’t see me. I’m still in the house.”

“Right. Stay there. I’m on my way. Lock the door, don’t open it for anything and you have weapons, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be straight there. Don’t panic.”

She hung up and dashed to the car, barely remembering to lock up the house behind her. Her fingers shook as she started the van. That stupid, stupid man.

The hunt wasn’t far away, but the drive seemed to take an eternity. Once she’d parked, she took her own knives from the back of the van and crept towards the house they’d thought the shifter was targeting. The front door was slightly splintered, but firmly shut.

When she went inside, she shouted for Dean, but he didn’t answer. Shrugging off a settling sense of unease, she looked around the whole house. He was nowhere to be found.  
“Oh, fuck,” she cursed. If Dean was hurt too, then she was going to kill John. And then say “I told you so.”

The houses being targeted had all had connections to an old tunnel system in their basements. She crept towards the basement of the house, the door to which was slightly ajar. On the floor in front of it was one of the toy soldiers that Dean carried around for Sammy to play with.

She bit back a curse as she realised what had happened. Dean had gone to find John himself.

Stupid, idiotic Winchesters.

If she was right, then she couldn’t hang around. The entrance to the tunnel was already exposed, so she lowered herself into it, dropping lightly onto her feet. She allowed herself a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light before hurrying through them.

At the end of the tunnel the light was a little brighter, and she assumed that the shifter had made his base there. She walked towards it, her stomach twisting when she stepped on something smooth, wet and slippery. It was probably better not to look. 

Before she could reach the room, something grabbed her from behind and dragged her backwards. Its hand over her mouth stifled her yell, and whatever it was kept her arms pinned to her sides easily.

“Abbie, ssh. It’s me.”

“Dean!” He released her, and she staggered away. “Jesus, when did you get so strong?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been training. The shifter’s got Dad tied up in that room.”

“Yeah, I figured that. Are you okay, you’re not hurt?”

“No. I’m fine. Just worried.”

She studied his furrowed brow. “Dean, you scared me half to death. Next time, wait for one of us to go on a rescue mission, okay?”

He scowled. “Can we just rescue Dad?”

She made herself take a deep breath. “Sure, but we’re not done talking about this.”

He told her about the situation, and together they came up with a plan.

A few minutes later, Dean crept into the room. It was gloomy, with water dripping from pipes above and skins shed all around the room, but quite large. John was in the middle, fastened to a chair with his hands bound behind his back and his ankles fastened to the chair.

His hear was hammering as he made his way towards his dad. As he bent to cut his bonds, there was movement behind him. 

“If you want to live, kiddo, you’ll stand up and move away right now.”

The voice was low and menacing, and he turned to face it slowly. A large, powerfully built man stood there, glaring at him.

“Good. Now what do you want?”

“Your head on a plate.”

By the time the shifter had spun to face the doorway, Abbie had already fired, nailing him in the chest three times. He let out a shocked gurgle before crashing to the floor. 

Dean immediately turned back to John, cutting the bonds as fast as he could. Abbie hurried around to his front to examine him.

He was unconscious, but the only visible damage was a large gash on the top of his head. She sighed in relief.

“Is he okay?” Dean asked anxiously.

“Well, he’ll have one hell of a headache, but he’ll live. Come on, help me haul him back to the van.”

John came around just after they got home, whilst Abbie was still washing the cloth she’d used to clean his head. She came into the lounge once she heard him stir, but kept her distance, leaning against the mantelpiece. 

“Abbie?” He pushed himself to a sitting position. “I don’t remember…what happened?”

“You got yourself attacked and kidnapped. Dean phoned me up for help.”

“Is he okay?” he demanded.

“Oh, so now you’re worried about his safety?” she asked coldly.

“Is he safe, Abbie?”

“He’s fine. Asleep. The shifter didn’t touch him.”

“Oh, thank god…” He closed his eyes, sinking back into the sofa. “Thanks for taking care of it all, Abbie.”

“You need to take better care of your children. He was so scared about you, John.”

“I’ll try,” he promised.

Before he could continue, she cut him off. “Good. I’m going to bed. And John?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t pull a stunt like that again. You scared me half to death.”

John was still smiling for a while after she left the room.


	9. Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie becomes a target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a little longer than I thought it would, but I'll update soon. You'll see why. Also, a little bit of John's POV for you!

Late 1991

The cold autumn air nipped at her skin as she knocked on the motel door. It was already getting dark- she’d hoped to arrive earlier but the traffic had been hell.

When the door swung open, she grinned at Dean on the other side. “Hey, kid.”

His face split into a huge smile as he stepped forward to hug her. “Hey, Aunt Abbie.”

She looked up at him as she went into the little room. “Christ, Dean, you’re getting tall. Where’s John?”

“Or maybe you’re just short.” She scowled, and he darted away to avoid her swatting him. “Dad’s out getting dinner. He said he’d be back by six.”

She feigned a shocked gasp. “Don’t tell me he’s left me alone with you boys!”

“I guess he can trust us,” replied Dean, a wicked grin shooting across his face. 

“He’d be the first,” she muttered. “And what have you done with your brother?”

“I’m over here,” called Sam, raising a hand from the sofa. He leapt to his feet, but she caught him before he could crash into her, studying his face. A large bruise discoloured his left cheek. “Sam, what happened?”

He shrugged, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Some kids at school.”

“It’s okay,” interrupted Dean from behind them. “They’re taken care of.” The calmness in his voice left her in no doubt as to how he had taken care of them. 

“Dean…” she shot him a disapproving look. He just stared her down. 

“It’s fine. No one caught me.”

“That’s not the point.” She sighed, but let it go. “Right. Where am I sleeping?”

As she unpacked her stuff, she felt Sam watching her, and turned to look at him. “What is it, Sammy?”

“Do you…” He hesitated, looking away.

“Do I what?” Straightening up, she moved to sit on the bed. “You can ask me, Sam. I’m not gonna get mad.”

“Do you love Dad?” The words burst out of him in a torrent.

She was shocked into silence for a second. Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that. She let out a long breath.

“Come and sit here,” she told him, patting the bed beside her. He did so, looking up at her shyly.

“Sam, your dad and I are…there’s some stuff that’s happened between us that makes our relationship complicated. At the moment, we’re just friends, and I don’t know if I’d be comfortable with much else.”

He nodded, his lips pressing together. “But you’re more than friends, too. Dad doesn’t think of you as just a friend.”

“Like I say, it’s complicated. We did date for a bit, and if things had happened differently, it could probably have been a lot more. But as things are, there are certain parts of our history that are hard to forget.”

“Your parents?” he asked softly. Something twisted inside of her. Of course John had told them.

“Yeah. My parents.” She swallowed hard against the memories. 

Someone coughed softly in the doorway behind them, and they both swung around to see John standing there, watching them. Abbie sprung to her feet, mind reeling in shock, but Sam just sat there dumbly.

“Sammy, could you go help Dean with dinner for a minute? Abbie and I have to talk,” said John softly.

She couldn’t look at him as Sam got to his feet and hurried out.

“How much did you hear?”

He moved around to sit next to her. “Enough.”

She nodded slowly. “And you understand what I was saying.”

“Your parents. Still.” His tone betrayed nothing.

“I still miss them, John. And every time I think of them I think of their deaths and then that links to you…” She put her head in her hands. 

“I don’t blame you, Abbie. But I think you should know…I wouldn’t change any of what happened.”

“No. Neither would I.”

“Do you think…” he moved a little closer. “Do you think there might be a way I could help you forget that day?”

She could have sworn her heart shuddered in her chest. 

“It depends how you were planning on helping me forget.” The words came out without her knowing what she was saying.

They stared at each other for one breathless moment, then John’s mouth was on hers, tongue pushing greedily into her mouth as he lowered her to the bed. His hands began to draw circles on her breasts, sending a spark straight down to the space between her legs. She bucked her hips up against his crotch. The feeling of his erection pushing against his jeans drew a strangled moan from her mouth, and John chuckled against her lips. 

“Later, sweetheart. Don’t forget the boys are here.” And he vanished, leaving her almost panting on the bed with an aching emptiness at her core.

“Stupid jerk,” she muttered to herself once she finally had control of herself again. He’d known exactly what he was doing.

Still, as she went through the evening, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was glad he’d stopped. She knew now that she loved him, that perhaps she had since before her parents’ deaths. But what had happened to her parents still lingered in her mind. On some level, what she felt for him felt wrong.

None of that overrode the most crucial thing. She’d liked making out with him earlier. And so had he.

God, it was confusing.

When over dinner John winked at her, she decided that she’d had enough. She pushed her chair back and stalked outside, calling over her shoulder, “I need a moment.”

Outside the motel, she leaned against the wall, letting her head tip backwards and closing her eyes. The fresh air helped to calm the thoughts spinning around her head, and she decided to just enjoy the peace. Something deep inside of her said that John would be there soon, and then they would talk.

Her hands were pinned behind her back, so they were no use when someone yanked her forward and pinned her against their chest. She would have fought, except whoever it was clamped a hand over her mouth and rested the edge of a blade against her throat. 

“Now, now, darling, don’t go trying to fight me. That’s not going to end prettily, now, is it?” came a rough voice from behind her. 

She tried to spit out a curse, but his hand muffled it.

“Less of that language, please,” he scolded. “Someone should really teach you how to respect your elders.”

He dragged her towards a car parked around the side of the building. At the sight of another man waiting, this one with a sack in his hands, she struggled harder but her captor’s grip just tightened.

“I told you, darling. No fighting.”

The other man came towards her, hitting her hard around the side of the head. She was stunned into silence. They took the opportunity to tug the bag over her head and tie her wrists behind her back. As they shoved her into their car, her head smacked against the metal doorframe. There was an instant of staggering pain, and then she was unconscious.

 

John became uneasy when he heard car tyres squealing away outside.

He’d been going to talk to her anyway- the confusion on her face as she left had brought a pang of remorse to his heart. But after that noise, nothing could have kept him in the room.

The uneasiness solidified into dread when her van was still there, but she was nowhere to be found. He walked round the building twice, his steps becoming faster and more urgent, before he finally admitted to himself that she was gone. 

He stormed back into the motel room and snatched up the Impala’s keys from the table. That car had only left twenty minutes ago. She would still be nearby.  
“Dad? What is it?” asked Sam from the table.

“Abbie’s missing. Her van’s still there,” he told them shortly. “I’m going to look for her.”

Dean stood and walked towards him. “Then I’m coming too.”

John turned, already halfway through the door. His son was stood straight in front of him, arms folded and jaw set stubbornly. He hardly had to tilt his chin to look up at him, John noted with a prick of surprise.

“No. I’m going alone.”

Swallowing, Dean stood his ground. “You’re not. Dad, Abbie’s like- she’s like a mother to us, too. I’ve got a right to look for her, and if there’s something dangerous out there you shouldn’t be alone.”

“No!” John exploded. “Dammit, Dean, listen to me. I am going alone. You and Sam are staying here and waiting.”

He took a breath as if to fight back, so John cut across him. “If I hear another word out of you, you’re not coming on a hunt for three months. I need to know that you will obey me. I’ll be back later.”

John strode out of the door and slammed it behind him. Anger and anxiety left no room for remorse in his head, and he knew he’d made the right decision. After all, it had been Abbie who’d pointed out to him that he shouldn’t let the boys hunt with him.

The car had left tyre tracks on the roads, and he followed them out of the car park and through the roads. The anger pounding in his veins was so furious that it made it difficult to concentrate on the driving. He nearly missed it when the tracks turned and went into a small warehouse. Once he’d parked, he pulled out a selection of guns and knives from the car, not particularly caring what he’d have to fight through to get to Abbie. She had only just begun to let him in, and he wasn’t going to let her be snatched away from him now. 

A silver car was parked to one side of the warehouse, and a few feet away Abbie was suspended from the ceiling by her wrists. Her head drooped, and he caught a glimpse of a gash on her forehead. Walking towards her, he hesitated. This couldn’t be it. It was too easy.

He took her face in his hands once he reached her, but she didn’t wake. He took one of his knives out and cut away the rope from her wrists, catching her in his arms. With a final glance around them, he scooped her into his arms and almost ran back to the Impala.

He was expecting an attack from the moment he drove away. His senses were almost too vivid, every bright pair of headlights and squeal of tires making him flinch. As he pulled back into the motel car park, he looked over to see her opening her eyes slowly. In the moonlight, he could have sworn that they looked silver.

It was the last thing he noticed before she sprang.

She took him by surprise and managed to pin him against the window, her hands tight around his throat. Her face was inches from his, and she gave him a feral grin as he gasped for breath.

With one hand, he fumbled for the door handle behind him and managed to get it open. They both tumbled onto the hard tarmac, him letting out a gasp as they hit. She rolled off him and crouched nearby. He had just managed to sit up when she pounced for him again, trying to straddle his body. By slapping his face, he managed to push her off him and buy himself time to get to his feet. 

Abbie froze for a second, before darting towards the car and snatching up one of the knives he’d left on the passenger seat.

“What have they done to you, Abbie?” he muttered to himself. It looked like she’d somehow been enchanted. No wonder she’d been so easy to rescue, but he’d be damned if he would let her hurt him. Once she got back to normal, she’d never forgive herself.

She dived towards him, aiming the knife straight for his heart, but he leapt out of the way and managed to get behind her. Damn, but she was strong. “Come on, drop the knife,” he muttered as he grasped her wrists. She did, but somehow managed to spin around and slash his face with her nails.

He staggered backwards and she scooped up the knife again. Right as she was about to dive for him and drive it into his stomach, a gunshot pierced the air and she sank to the ground. Blood was gushing from a wound in her leg.

Dean stood behind her, the shotgun shaking in his hands. 

John dashed towards her where she was sprawled on the ground. Even injured, she tried to get a grip on his throat, so he punched the side of her head. She slumped sideways, finally out of it.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you,” he murmured. That is, if she woke up herself again.

“Dean, inside,” he told his son over his shoulder. “Get things ready for me to clean her up.” 

Dean was still shaking as he passed John, so he spoke again. “And good job.”

Then he turned his attention back to Abbie. Ignoring the blood staining his clothes, he lifted her into his arms and all but ran back to the motel room. Dean was already setting out the stuff he’d need as he lay Abbie on the bed, and Sam watched wide-eyed.

He concentrated solely on Abbie, not speaking as he dug out the bullet from her leg and stitched her up. Then he moved to the gash on her temple and the wounds he’d given her. He tried his best, but his hands still shook a little as he tried to clean them.

“Dad, let me,” Dean said calmly. He brushed his hands aside and replaced them with his own. His face was pale, but firm with determination.

John sat back in the chair, pressing his hands to his face. 

“She’s gonna be okay, Dad,” Dean murmured. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. She is.” John replied. “Sam, would you fetch me some rope, please?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Don’t question me. She was enchanted somehow. I don’t want her waking up and trying to attack us again.”

He wasn’t looking at them, but he felt Sam and Dean have one of their silent conversations. A few moments later, Sam fetched the rope and gave it to him.

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, guilt was bearing down on him. Abbie’s injuries. Dean having to shoot her. This was his fault. They’d been trying to hurt him. He couldn’t let Abbie get in the way of danger again, not because of him. 

He tied her wrists and ankles to the bed as gently as he could, not tight enough to hurt her but enough that she wouldn’t get out of them easily. 

Then he waited.

He barely noticed Dean cleaning up around him, or the boys going to bed. He just took Abbie’s hand in his larger one, rubbing it gently, and waited for her to wake up.


	10. It's Not Your Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are explored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is smut. I'm not sorry. (By the way, I've never written smut before, so any feedback would really be appreciated!)

John’s hand in hers was the first thing Abbie noticed as she woke.

As her senses slowly came back to her, she almost gasped at the burning pain in her leg, and when she tried to sit up her wrists tugged against the harsh rope holding her down.

“Hey. Keep still.” John’s face appeared above her, watching her nervously. “How you feeling?”

“Confused. And sore.” She tugged at the ropes again. “What the hell happened?”

He closed his eyes, sagging with relief. As he began to untie her, he asked, “What do you remember?”

Once her wrists were free, she rubbed them. “I was outside the motel, and someone- attacked me?”

“And nothing else?” She shook her head. “I guess that makes sense. They wouldn’t want you to remember them.”

“Remember who?” The confusion felt like she kept running into a brick wall in her mind.

John sat back down beside her and helped her to sit up, leaning against his side. Her stomach rolled at the pain in her leg. Up close she could see that he was a little battered, too. A particularly nasty scrape ran down one side of his face.

“I heard whoever took you pulling off, and went after you. They left you unconscious in a warehouse, so I rescued you, but you attacked me just after we got back here. It looked like you’d been enchanted or something.”

She reached out and trailed her fingers down his scrape, over the bruises patterning his throat. “I did this?” The urge to kiss him when he trembled was nearly irresistible.  
“Yeah. But it wasn’t your fault. You were a trap for me, I guess. Damn near worked, too- I’d be dead if it weren’t for Dean.”

An image lit up in her brain. “My leg. He shot me.”

“Only way we could keep you down. I’m sorry.”

From the expression on his face, she knew he didn’t just mean sorry for shooting her. He stared resolutely away from her, his jaw clenched.

“Hey. Look at me.” When he didn’t respond, she took his face and turned it towards her. “Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t ask for me to get kidnapped and cursed to attack you. This is not your fault. Do you remember telling me that, the day my parents died?”

“The day I killed them, you mean.” His voice was little more than a whisper. 

“The day you saved my life. And I never thanked you for that, and I always…blamed you, I guess. It was unfair, and I’m sorry.”

He looked upwards. “No, you were right to blame me…”

“Be quiet. I’m not done.” He looked back at her, slowly.

“You don’t get to take all the sadness and horror in the world onto your shoulders, because you do all you damn well can to make it better. I remember realising that last night, while they still…had me. I should have seen it years ago, because if I had, we could have spent that time doing this.”

She stretched up and brought her lips to his. 

It took him a moment to respond, just long enough that she almost pulled away with embarrassment. But before she could, his hands were at the back of her head, holding her to him, and it felt like a thousand fireworks went off inside her. 

They pulled apart, and he grinned. “Fine. You’ve persuaded me. But we can’t do this now.”

“Why not?” She was aware that she sounded like a petulant child. She was also aware that she didn’t give a damn, but it made John chuckle.

“Because you’re injured and I don’t want to burst your stitches. Also, Sam and Dean will wake up soon.”

“What time is it?” 

“About nine in the morning.”

She moaned in protest, reaching for John, but he got up from the bed and out of her reach. “Uh-uh. I’m going to fix breakfast.”

By the time she had gathered her energy and limped over to John’s motel room, the boys were already up. Sam grinned widely when he saw her, but Dean went wide-eyed and didn’t move. She sat next to him.

“Morning,” she said softly.

His mouth opened, but he seemed to be struggling for words.

“You don’t have to say anything, Dean. I should be thanking you for being brave enough to do that last night. If not…well, it’s best left unsaid.”

“I shot you.” His voice was tense with guilt.

“To keep John safe, I would have shot me too. You don’t need to worry.” She took his hand, and smiled at him. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Have you remembered anything else?” John asked as he sat opposite them. 

She frowned. “Bits and pieces. They were definitely trying to use me as a weapon against you, and there was a witch involved.”

“Isn’t there always.” He sighed. “Well, I’m going to track them down and then put them down. No one gets to do that to you.” His gaze burned into her possessively, and she grinned back.

“Wait. Are you two…” Dean trailed off.

“Are we what, Dean?” she asked him mischievously. 

He muttered something unintelligible.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Are you a couple now?”

“Yes. I suppose we are,” she replied. 

Sam whooped. “Finally!”

John managed to kill the witch, who’d been acting with a couple of rogue police officers, after a few days of searching. This time, instead of them going their separate ways again, they all went back to Abbie’s house to get their bearings.

The first night they were back there, John and Abbie spent a few hours talking together on the sofa after Sam and Dean went to bed. 

“How’s your leg?” he asked , brushing his fingers over the wound gently.

“Healing. I should be able to train again soon, with any luck.”

“Well, you could. Or there’s something else we could do to pass the time.”

Her stomach clenched with desire as his voice lowered, and she pressed her legs together to try and subdue her need. “Oh, yeah? What were you thinking?”

He moved closer, whispering the words into her ear.

“Well, for a start, you could take that top off. I think that would make for a much better view.”

She stood on shaky legs, taking a step away from the sofa. It was almost impossible to peel her top off when she could still feel his gaze burning into her, but she managed it. She lifted the fabric over her head as slowly as she could, and another flame of lust licked through her as she heard his gasp at seeing her body revealed.

He couldn’t seem to move, so she lowered herself onto his lap, grinding her crotch against his swelling bulge. 

“And what then?” she murmured. 

“I…” He swallowed, eyes half closed. “I take off your bra. If you’ll let me.”

Grinning, she hooked her arms around his neck, and he reached behind her to undo her clasp. Before he’d even pulled the bra fully away from her, his hands were on her breasts, tugging and rubbing her nipples. Moaning softly, she let her head fall back, and he took it as an opportunity to kiss her neck, scraping his teeth down it gently. She gasped, the warmth at her core now threatening to overwhelm her.

“Not here,” she managed to gasp. “If they come downstairs…”

Wordlessly, John swept her into his arms and she clung to him as he carried her upstairs. They reached her bedroom and he lowered her to the bed, hovering over her as he began to undo her jeans. Once they were on the floor, he gave her a wicked grin before moving downwards and pinning her hips to the bed. She tried to buck as his tongue licked one long stripe downwards from her belly button, stopping just short of her clit. She was practically throbbing with need as he darted his tongue in and out of her.

Reaching down, she tugged at his hair. “S-stop. Wanna…wanna come on you.”

He hissed, and she cried out as the air flowed over her heat. She sat up and helped him to strip, unable to stop herself from running one hand over his stiff cock as it was released to the air, her fingers darting over his slit. He shuddered beneath her, but allowed her a few more pumps before he was turning her onto her back and hovering over her.  
An entirely new pang of need swept over her as his tip just brushed her entrance. “John…please…”

“You want this?” he muttered, his voice shivering. She knew it was a genuine question. “You sure?”

“Yes! Christ John, just…”

He lowered himself as if he was about to push in, when he stopped. She nearly hissed with frustration. The throbbing was becoming unbearable. 

“Condoms?”

“I’m on the pill, just forget it, I trust you…” 

He cut her off by capturing her lips in his as he thrust into her, going slow enough to give her time to adjust. Damn, but he was big. The way it felt to be stretched around him reduced her world to nothing but the sheets and her skin on his and the desperation still pulsing inside of her.

“This okay?” he breathed.

“Dammit, John, just move!”

He did, grunting as he pulled out of her and then pushed all the way back in. She was lost in him and he in her, and it was all she could do to raise her hips to meet his thrusts.   
When his hand wandered downwards to massage her clit, she was gone. She came with a cry, her whole body tensing as waves of bliss crashed over her. At the feeling of her walls shuddering around him he lost it too, shaking as he shot his load into her. 

He pulled out slowly and rolled over, lying behind her and pulling her into his front. Limp with satisfaction, she allowed herself to drift off to sleep cradled in his arms. 

This is nice, she thought as she awoke the next morning. She could get used to this- the warmth of John surrounding her, warm sun coming in through the windows, and…

And John’s length, somehow hard again, poking between her legs.

Must be a good dream, she grinned to herself. Then an idea came to her. 

Rather than waking him up by getting out of bed, she rolled over and ducked underneath the blankets to where his cock waited. She took a moment to run her tongue up his underside and around his balls, appreciating his length before she took him into her mouth.

His startled jerk beneath her let her know that he was awake, but she didn’t give him time to process what she was doing before she hollowed her cheeks and took him even deeper. When her nose was pressing into his skin, she began to bob her head up and down, the insides of her cheeks brushing over him. She ran her tongue over his head, pausing for a moment on his slit, and it pushed him over the edge. The sheets muffled his cry as his cum was fired down her throat, and she swallowed. 

Slowly, she made her way back up the bed to lie on the pillows facing him. He watched her with a lazy grin on his face.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“You’re welcome,” she grinned. 

He reached out to wipe something from the corner of her mouth, and she flicked her tongue out to brush over his finger. 

“Careful, sweetheart. Are you really sure you want to tease me like that?” he asked.

“Why? How are you gonna stop me?” she replied with a challenging smirk in her eyes.

His answering grin nearly stopped her heart. “Like this.”

He tore away the sheets covering them both and dived down between her legs. She felt herself flush with heat as he licked a trail around her cunt and clit, purposefully avoiding both. Once her seeping wetness had coated his mouth, he pulled away, and she moaned as he pushed two fingers inside of her. He curled them so he could simultaneously stroke her clit, and the electricity rushing through her brought her right to the edge. When he lowered his head again and replaced his fingers with his tongue, she practically screamed with the power of the orgasm rushing through her. 

He sat up and kept eye contact with her as he sucked his fingers clean. She sagged back against the pillows.

“Well, that did the trick,” he said smugly once she’d got her breath back. 

“You can say that again,” she agreed.

“If we don’t go downstairs now, I’m going to keep you here all day,” he said conversationally. 

She sighed. “Then we should go. We need to keep at least Sam’s innocence intact.”

They got up together, and she grabbed John’s shirt from the floor where they’d discarded it. John all but growled when she tugged it over her head and headed for the door.  
“Are you going to wear something else with that?”

She made a show of turning and looking downwards. “No. Everything’s covered, so I’m good.”

She didn’t wait for his response before going downstairs. Dean was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as she walked in. He wore a shit-eating grin, and something dangled from one of his fingers.

“Abbie, you care to explain why I found your bra in the living room this morning?”


	11. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie and John go on a hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be connected to stuff later on. You might be able to guess what.

February 1992

“So what, there’s a rogue fairy going around casting love spells on the wrong couples? Sounds a little Shakespeare to me,” Abbie sighed. She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples.

“Not love spells,” John corrected her. “It looks like someone made a deal with it allowing it to control all of the relationships in this area. Obviously, it’s using that…”

“To make people kill each other. Right.” She flicked to another page in the book.

“Have you found anything on how to kill them yet?” John asked.

“Not kill them. But it looks like there is a way to banish them.”

“Better than nothing. So what do we have to do?”

“Find a way to make it show itself, spill salt in front of it and then recite an incantation.”

“Great. So how do we summon it?” Dean asked, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

Abbie pursed her lips. She’d fought with both of them for months about how involved Dean should be with hunting, finally negotiating that Dean only came on the easiest hunts. That didn’t stop him, and sometimes Sam, helping with their research sessions. 

“There’s no record of how to do it. We could go track down the woman who started this all. You know, that one whose best friend split up with his wife so he could be with her? I think she might have made a deal with the fairy to make her friend fall in love with her.”

John nodded slowly. “It’s worth a shot. We should go find her before that creature kills anyone else.”

“Am I coming?” Dean asked. 

“No,” Abbie said firmly. John shot her a sideways glance, and she glared at him. “No, John. We’re not even sure what we’re facing.”

He shrugged at Dean. “Sorry, kid. I don’t want to piss her off.”

Dean simply nodded. “Okay. Guess I’ll stay and look after Sammy, then.”

“Thank you, Dean,” she smiled at him. She knew Dean wanted to hunt, badly, and that was part of what scared her. Sure, he was enthusiastic, but he was also young, and that combination led to mistakes.

They tracked down contact details for the woman and went outside to the Impala. As they reached the car, John turned to her and said, “You know, I’d planned on something a little more romantic for our first Valentine’s Day.”

She was startled. “Is it?” When he nodded, she laughed. “Well, that’s ironic. That fairy could hardly have picked a better time.”

He grinned. “I’ll make it up to you. We can go out for a meal tomorrow night. And…” he leaned in a little closer. “I’m sure I can find a way to earn your forgiveness tonight.”  
A shiver ran down her spine. She ran her tongue over her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. “I look forward to it.” The things John could do to her with just his words still surprised her, two months since they’d started dating.

It was hard to keep her distance from him while they interrogated the woman, Madeleine. She didn’t think she was very successful- Madeleine kept giving them both strange looks – but they eventually got her to confess that yes, she had summoned a fairy who had demanded power over all relationships in their town. 

At that point, Abbie had to step in to stop John from terrorising the poor woman. He puffed up, ready to give her an earful, but she reached up to whisper into his ear.

“John, stop. She feels badly enough as it is. You don’t need to make it worse. If you can’t control yourself, go and wait at the car.”

He turned and strode out, his fists clenched at his sides. She watched him go with a slight twist of unease. Then she turned to Madeleine with a gentle smile on her face. “It’s okay, we don’t blame you. It’s easy to not understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Your partner doesn’t see it that way,” she murmured. Her head was in her hands. “And he’s right. I might as well have killed those people.”

“Like I say, you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. And hey, at least it wasn’t the devil.”

She looked back up with the hint of a smile on her face. “Thanks.”

“We do need your help to deal with it, though. Think of it as making up for your mistakes.” 

Nodding, she let her lips in a grim line. “What do you need?”

“Well, we can banish the fairy again, but to do that we need to figure out how to summon it. Can you tell us?”

“I can do better. I can summon it for you.”

Abbie almost choked on the water she’d been sipping. She met the woman’s eyes, which were hard with resolve.

“No, I- our job is to keep you safe. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that.”

She crossed her arms. “Then I’m telling you nothing. That creature took advantage of me. I want a chance to confront it.”

Her shoulders sagged. They needed that information. “Right. Let me go talk to my partner.”

She went outside to find John leaning against the car, staring up at the sky. 

“John,” she said softly. He looked at her.

“You done in there?”

Pursing her lips, she told him, “No. She’s saying that if she can’t confront the fairy for herself, she won’t tell us how to summon it.”

“Dammit.” He rubbed his hand through his hair. “Can we find out without her?”

“Not without a few more days’ work. By which time…”

“It will have killed again. So we don’t really have a choice, do we?”

“Not really,” she confirmed apologetically.

“Then I want to come back in and talk to her.”

“Only if you promise not to shout at her.”

He rolled his eyes. “Abbie, she deserves it!”

“No. I can talk to her if you’re that unrestrained.”

“Fine. I promise not to shout at her or point out the utter stupidity of what she did. Happy?”

They went back inside together. Madeleine visibly stiffened at the sight of John, but Abbie broke in hastily. "It’s okay. He won’t shout at you.”

They carried on eyeing each other warily until John spoke. “If you come to confront it with us, we can’t keep you safe. I’ll be honest. You could die.”

Abbie watched her reaction carefully. Her face went pale, but she lifted her chin. “Then I die, don’t I? Maybe it’s what I deserve after letting all those people die.”

John nodded slowly. “And if it comes to a choice between you and Abbie, I’ll pick Abbie.”

She shot him a sharp look, but Madeleine nodded briskly. “Understood. We should go before we waste any more time.”

“Where exactly are we going?” asked Abbie warily.

“My backyard.” When John snorted, she continued, “I know it’s a little ridiculous, but it was the most private area I could find.”

“Right. Lead the way.” 

Madeleine led Abbie into the backyard whilst John went to fetch salt from the boot. Abbie ran over the words of the incantation she’d memorised in her head, watching the woman in front of her warily. Once John returned, he handed Abbie a bag of salt silently, then turned to Madeleine.

“Okay. Summon it.”

Abbie tensed as Madeleine spoke. “Mariel, I summon thee to do my bidding!”

“Get behind me,” John ordered her, pushing her roughly behind him. A ball of light popped into existence above them and floated down towards them. As it touched the ground, it popped, and suddenly a tall, curvy woman stood in its place. Long blue wings curved away from her back and towered above her head.

Before she could register their presence, Abbie threw the bag of salt at her. It scattered at her feet, and she immediately leaned over to count it. 

“Well, really?” she hissed at Madeleine from the floor. “I give you everything you wanted, and you call a couple of hunters on me?”

“They came to me themselves,” Madeleine said defensively. Her voice shook. 

“Oh, yeah, sure. I know what really happened. You chickened out.” Mariel’s face was twisted with disdain. “No matter. I’ll simply finish counting this salt, then kill you all.”

John and Abbie shared a look. He nodded at her.

“No, you won’t,” Abbie told her calmly. She began to recite the words she’d memorised. Once she’d finished, though, the fairy remained crouched on the ground. She eyed Abbie calmly. The pile of salt was nearly finished.

“Would you look at that? Looks like you got yourself a bad spell, sweetheart. Now, once I’m finished…”

“Let’s run!” urged Madeleine from behind John. He shook his head, sharing a wild glance with Abbie.

“That’d be no use, sweetheart. She can track us now she’s seen us.”

“There’s nowhere to run, nothing to do. Just wait for me there like good little lambs,” she sing-songed. “Here we go!”

She’d run out of salt to count.

Madeleine let out a whimper as John pulled Abbie closer to him. “Is there any more salt?” he whispered. She shook her head.

“Now, let’s see,” the fairy was saying. “Normally, I’d bewitch an object to kill you for me, but I’m feeling a little more vengeful today. You did try and trap me after all. So I think it’ll be the pretty man first, then the woman, then Madeleine.”

“Or…you could just step away from them. Now.

They all jumped at the new voice behind them, and Abbie spun on her heel.

An even taller woman stood there, her wings twice her height, staring at Mariel disdainfully. 

“I said step away from them, Mariel. You’ve caused enough trouble for this century.”

“Titania…” Mariel said. Her eyes had gone very wide, and she stared in fear as she stumbled backwards. “No…I didn’t mean…I wouldn’t have…”

“Except you would. Actually, you have. You’ve dishonoured our species, and you will be taken home to face trial.”

John, Abbie and Madeleine stumbled out of the way as a pair of male fairies in formal uniforms and grasped Mariel by the arms. With a quiet pop, they all disappeared.

“Wow,” breathed Abbie.

“Sorry, but who are you?” John asked brusquely.

The fairy, Titania, turned and bowed her head to him. “I am Titania, queen of the fairies, and I owe you a great debt for trapping Mariel. She was quite out of control. John muttered something that sounded like “you could say that”.

Scowling, she stamped on his foot and ignored his yelp. “It was our pleasure, your Majesty. I only hope you can stop this from happening again.”

“We will certainly try, Abigail Simmons,” the queen assured her. “And may I just congratulate you on tricking her so successfully.”

“Tricking her?” frowned Madeleine.

Abbie grinned as she turned to look at her. “The only reason Mariel got away with what she was doing for so long was because she was blocking Titania from entering this world. The spell I said was a summoning spell, which overrode Mariel’s and brought Titania here.”

“What- what if it hadn’t worked?” she asked. Her face was rather pale.

“Then we’d have died,” Abbie shrugged. 

“But she was pretty certain,” added John.

Madeleine’s eyes fluttered upwards, and she fell to the ground with a thump. Abbie snorted.

“This is the woman who first summoned Mariel?” Titania asked, pointing at her.

“Yep,” John confirmed. Titania stepped forward and pressed her fingers to her forehead. 

“There. Now she wil remember nothing. I’ll take her spellbook with me when I leave.”

“What about Mariel’s spells?” Abbie frowned.

“With her back in Fairyland, their effects will be undone. All those still alive will be unaffected.”

“Thank you,” Abbie smiled.

“It was my pleasure. And, Abbie…” the queen’s eyes drifted down to her stomach, and she shifted uncomfortably. Her gaze seemed to beam right through her. “Congratulations.”

“What was that about?” asked John as they went back to the Impala.

“No idea,” Abbie shrugged.


	12. Endings and Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a pretty big decision Abbie and John have to make, and at least five people will be affected by it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. Please don't be too mad?

Early March 1992

She carried the stick back into her bedroom and sat on the bed before she dared look at what was clutched in her hand.

It took a lot of effort for her to open her eyes so she could look at it. Even then, as she raised it to the light, her stomach felt twisted with nerves.

What would happen if this was positive?

Gathering up the courage she had left- somehow, this required much more bravery than a hunt –she looked at the little screen.

Two red lines.

She was glad John wasn’t home.

 

June 1992

The bitter taste of vomit hung in her mouth as she sat back from the toilet bowl. Abbie sagged against the wall and closed her eyes.

Almost unconsciously, she slipped her hand underneath her shirt to rub the slight bulge of her stomach, the little lump in the middle of it. 

Pregnant. It still felt like a strange word to apply to herself, even with the weird appetite and the morning sickness.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Abbie? Abbie, you okay?” came John’s cautious voice through the wood. 

“Yeah,” she called back, trying to sound more upbeat than she felt. “Must have eaten something bad, that’s all.”

She didn’t know how she was going to tell him. This baby, their baby, would change everything- for her, for John, for Sam and Dean, for the lives they all led. But she would have to tell him soon. Before the bump got too big to hide and she had to stop hunting, at least for a while.

The door opened and John came in, looking down at her anxiously. She snatched her hand away from her stomach. Wordlessly, he handed her a bottle of water and sat down next to her. She took a gulp gratefully, relishing the way it washed away the bitter aftertaste.

“Abbie, you have to talk to a doctor about this,” said John quietly. Concern was written all over his face as he looked at her.

Her stomach lurched again, this time with guilt. “Talk to a doctor about what?”

“This has been going on for weeks, Abbie. If something’s wrong, we need to get it fixed. The boys are worried.”

“John, I’m fine, really. It won’t last much longer.”

“You told me that last week, too. If it hasn’t cleared up by the weekend, I’m making the appointment for you.”

“Seriously, John. No.”

He looked at her, rubbing his head. “Well, what am I supposed to do, Abbie? You’re sick, and lying to me about it won’t make it go away.”

“I’m not lying! I just…” She sighed. She was going to have to tell him. “Can we go into the bedroom and talk about this?”

“Sure.” His voice was heavy with relief. Despite her protests, he helped her to her feet, and they went into their bedroom together. She sank onto the bed, but he remained standing, looking down at her. When she didn’t speak, he sat next to her and put her arm around her shoulders.

“Abbie, please talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I’m not- I’m not properly sick, John. It’s just morning sickness,” she finally admitted.

Next to her, he froze. “Morning sickness? As in…”

Reluctantly, she pulled up her shirt, took his hand, and placed it over her small bump.

“As in I’m pregnant.” She couldn’t met his eyes.

“Wow,” he breathed softly. “How long?”

“Four months,” she said, bringing her eyes slowly up to his. He was looking at her with a kind of incredulous joy, so intense that she couldn’t help but smile too.

He reached up to stroke her cheek softly, still staring into her eyes. “Why didn’t you want to tell me?”

The overwhelming joy faded at his question.

“John…” She didn’t know what to say, how to tell him. “This child doesn’t stand a chance. We’re hunters. It doesn’t stand a chance.”

“What are you saying, Abbie?” His brow furrowed.

“I don’t know,” she snapped suddenly. “I don’t know, okay, John? I love this child already because it is ours. But it has no future.”

She shifted away from him and buried her face in her hands.

“So…are you going to have it…” He swallowed, unable to finish the sentence.

“No. God no. I told you, John, this child is ours and I love it. But I have to choose. If I keep this baby, it will be fighting from the moment it’s born. You’ve seen what this life did to your boys. I don’t…I don’t know if I can do that to our child.” Unconsciously, she had brought her hands down to cradle her stomach. John covered them with his own. She looked back up at him. “There’s only one way I can keep this child without destroying it.”

“How?” Determination began to glitter in his eyes. 

“You’re not going to like this, John,” she warned him.

“How?” he repeated. 

“We have to stop hunting.”

“We what?!”

“You heard me. While we hunt, our child won’t stand a chance. This is our chance to get out, John. You have to choose.”

“Choose between what?”

“Our child is not going to be a soldier in your war. You either live with us or you chase your revenge.”

She felt him beside her, could almost hear the shock as it rippled through him. 

“Abbie…” his voice was hoarse. “You can’t ask this of me.”

She knew then what he was going to say. Cold settled into her bones.

“I can and I am. Your child or your revenge.” Her voice cracked on the last word. “Please, John. Give our child a chance. We can spend the rest of our lives together.”

“We can have both. Abbie. You can’t just ask me to give up. Look, you can hunt and have children. In fact, it’ll be easier with me. Look at Sam and Dean.” He almost sounded like he was pleading with her.

Running her hands through her hair, she got to her feet. “Exactly, John. Look at them. You’re turning them into soldiers. You’re giving up everything to avenge a woman who died nearly ten years ago. And now you’re going to lose me too.”

“Abbie, please, listen…” He had risen to his feet too, gripping her arms gently. 

“No.” She pulled herself away, and it felt like the action tore her heart. She swallowed, trapping the tears in her throat. “You either leave hunting in the past, or I leave and you’re gone when I come back. Leave the boys if you want. They’d be better off without you.”

“You don’t mean that.” His face went blank. 

“I do.”

Slowly, he nodded. His voice was empty. “Abbie, I’m not giving up just for you. You have to understand that.”

She tipped her chin back, trying to hide how deeply the words had cut her. “Then you’re choosing revenge over me. I’m leaving. When I come back, you will have left. If not, I’m calling the police, and I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to finally catch you.”

“What am I supposed to tell Sam and Dean?”

“Whatever you want, I don’t know. I cheated on you. I lied to you. I made a deal with a bloody demon, I don’t care. Just leave.” She pressed one hand against her mouth as she stormed past him, down the stairs and out of her own home.

Sam and Dean hovered at the bottom of the stairs, gaping at her. 

“Abbie, what…” Dean started as she stalked past them. Despite herself, she turned to him, and grasped her face in his hands.

“Dean, Sam. I’m sorry. I wish I could save you.”

Then she continued on her way, not stopping until she reached her van.

She drove until she couldn’t see for tears, pulling up beside a lake. A bench was beside it, and she got out and staggered towards it.

It was late afternoon, and the sun was just beginning to set. The orange rays of the sun reached out across the water to her, and the grass at the edge of the lake waved gently in the breeze. 

It was so peaceful. Like nothing had ever happened. 

She wrapped her arms around her stomach tightly, trying to remind herself why they’d had that conversation. Why she’d torn her world and John’s apart, left Sam and Dean to whatever future John drove them into. The guilt was almost too much. 

No doubt in time, that would be all she remembered of their relationship. The guilt and the anger and John’s still-burning resentment would outweigh the love and the happiness. Maybe the only thing she’d remember of John was that he’d loved revenge and pain more than he’d loved her.

But no, that wasn’t true. She’d remember the way Dean looked after Sam, how Sam always saw the best in a situation.

She just wouldn’t be able to remember the best of John. 

At that, she doubled over, the memories finally overwhelming her. She’d known that being with John probably wouldn’t end well, but she hadn’t been ready for it to hurt this badly.  
And then there was the child. She’d been counting on John. Now she had a child, one she would have to bring up on her own. She didn’t know how she would cope.

Overwhelmed, she let her head drop into hands, unable to hold back the tears any long her. Her body shook under the force of her emotions. It was too much. She couldn’t handle it. 

Her head snapped back up as something moved inside her. 

Too shocked to cry, she yanked her shirt up to stare at her stomach. 

The baby had moved. Her baby had moved.

Somehow, that told her that things would work out. She didn’t know how, but they would work out. 

She got back home, where she sank onto the sofa. Suddenly, she was too tired to want to do anything. 

It was the work of a few days to completely clear the house of John. She kept one thing, a photo of the boys, but cleaning them out was too hard for her even to consider keeping anything else.

The first night she felt completely alone again, she sat on her sofa drinking tea. It had been a shock to remember that she couldn’t drink wine. There would be a lot she couldn’t do while she was pregnant.

God, she was going to have to find a doctor. It was a good thing she had some money saved. She wasn’t ready for this at all. 

While those thoughts were flying through her head, she was startled by the phone ringing. Moving slower than she was used to, she got up to fetch it.

“Hello?”

“Abbie?” came a small voice from the other end. 

She almost vomited again. “Sam. Hey, kid.”

“Abbie, what happened? Dad, he’s a…mess. He won’t talk about you.”

“I…Sam, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t let him stay. I couldn’t get hurt.”

“What happened?”

“I can’t tell you, Sam. You dad would go mental. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.”

“But we all miss you, Abbie. This isn’t the same.”

She heard voices muttering in the background, then there was a new voice on the other end.

“Abbie. Just talk to Dad, and he’ll come back, and it will all be okay again.” Dean sounded brittle.

“I can’t, Dean. There’s too much at stake.”

“You can’t just run away from getting hurt.”

“It’s not just me. I can’t explain, but it’s more than just me at stake.”

“Abbie, please. What do you mean?”

“Dean, I c-can’t.”

“I didn’t think you’d leave us too.” His voice sounded just as empty as his father’s had earlier.

“This isn’t something I’ve chosen, Dean”-

“Goodbye, Abbie.” There was a crash on the other end, and the line dissolved into static.

“Bye, Dean,” she whispered. She hadn’t thought those boys were capable of breaking her into any more pieces, but they’d sure as hell managed it.

She wished they could have known about their new brother or sister. They’d be the best big brothers.

But surely it would be better this way. She had to get used to a new life.


	13. Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie really hates being pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a bit late, I was on holiday last week and kind of lost track of time. Not that I'm complaining. Anyway, this story is winding up, but it leads straight into a new one...

November 1992

She hated being pregnant.

The baby -her little girl- was due any day now, and her stomach was so swollen she’d hardly been able to sleep for the last month. Her back ached all the time, not to mention her feet, and she was sick of needing the toilet. 

She couldn’t drink, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t hunt. She was going to go mad before the baby came.

Late at night, she lay in bed, trying her hardest to get to sleep. Molly had been particularly restless all day, and even now she could feel her shifting in her stomach. She closed her eyes against the weariness that washed over her, hoping against hope that she’d at least catch a couple of hours tonight. With a huge effort, she rolled onto her side, curling around the bump and bringing her hands to rest near her face. The baby didn’t seem to like that- she gave her an indignant kick right against her bladder. Abbie moaned.

“Settle down, sweetheart, please. I want to get some sleep at least.”

Molly kicked again, and with a sigh she acknowledged that sleep wasn’t coming for another few hours. She might as well go downstairs and watch TV whilst she waited.  
She heaved herself up and swung her legs out of bed. To stand up, she had to lean heavily on the chair nearby and take a deep breath before her full weight fell on her feet.  
Moving slowly and carefully, she grabbed the blanket slung over the end of her bed and headed downstairs, hanging onto the bannisters like her life depended on it. Before she’d got used to the new weight she was carrying, there had been several near misses with falling downstairs. She had to be even more careful because no one was around to find her if she did lose her balance. 

Once she reached the sofa, she slumped down onto it, breathing heavily. Even that short trip had stolen her breath away. The beginnings of a headache pounded against her skull, so she closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. 

There was already a video cassette in the player- the Disney film she’d been watching earlier. The Little Mermaid, that was it. She pressed play and rewound it to the beginning, then curled her feet beneath her and covered herself with the blanket. 

It was so warm, and the sofa was almost impossibly soft. She jerked herself awake again a few times and considered going back upstairs before remembering that she was so pregnant she’d probably fall asleep halfway up. Either that, or she’d have woken herself up again by the time she got to bed. 

Maybe I should pause the video, she thought blearily before finally, finally falling asleep. 

She woke up to confusion.

Rough fabric had been pulled over her face, almost choking her. The sounds of people moving around her home were muffled, as were her yells. She raised her hands to claw at whoever was holding the bag, but someone else grabbed them and used them to yank her to her feet. She stumbled, her breaths quickly becoming shorter and more panicked. Beyond the bag, someone was shouting orders, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. Someone grabbed her wrists and tied them behind her back, then began to march her outside. Two pairs of hands gripped her arms tightly, too tightly. 

Her stomach felt exposed, and more than anything she wanted to fold her arms across it, to protect her baby. She let out a sob of fear at how vulnerable she was. They could do anything they wanted to her, and she’d be helpless.

God, she really hated being pregnant. 

Nearby, she heard the sound of some kind of doors being opened, then the hands were forcing her into what felt like a van. She caught her foot on the edge of the floor and stumbled, losing her balance. Automatically she twisted to keep the baby safe. The last thing she knew was the back of her head hitting the floor with a crack, and utter blackness.  
When she woke up again, she was in a dimly lit room, sat on a chair with her hands tied behind her. Her head throbbed.

They’d taken the bag off, so she could see, but there was nothing else in the room. Her ankles were tied to the chair, too, and she wore a stretched T-shirt and loose pants.

The baby wasn’t moving.

Fear shot through her, followed quickly by desperation. She couldn’t even touch her stomach. Oh, god, no. This couldn’t be it. She’d carried her daughter for almost nine months, there was no way this was the end of it. 

She tugged against the ropes urgently, ready to scream for help, when Molly shifted a little inside of her. 

“Oh, thank God,” she moaned out loud. Still shaky with panic, she drooped back into her chair. “It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay,” she murmured softly.

The love that had grown for this child still surprised her. She hadn’t thought that the feelings would be this strong, this powerful. It was like she wasn’t living for herself, but for Molly. For her daughter.

Her daughter.

The thought filled her with new determination. They were both going to get away from this. Carefully, she tested the knots at her wrists. They were tight, but there was definitely some wriggle room. 

She gritted her teeth and began to twist her wrists in the ropes, but stopped when the door swung open and someone entered. 

He looked human, but she knew from experience that that was unlikely. Before she could even try and get out, she had to know what she was facing. 

“You’re Winchester’s girlfriend?” he asked sharply. His words were thick with some kind of accent.

She thrust her chin up, meeting his gaze. Of course John was involved with this. “Depends who’s asking.”

He didn’t reply immediately, instead pacing slowly towards her. She fought against a prickling sense of unease to stay still, but couldn’t resist jerking away when he brought out a hand from behind his back. His fingers ended in long, curved black claws. He raised one as if to trail it down her face, but instead moved to her stomach and dragged it down slowly. She tensed with the urge to smack it away.

“Get off of my stomach,” she hissed instead.

He arched an eyebrow. “I’m someone who could do a lot of damage to you and this baby you’re carrying. Now, let me ask you again. You are John Winchester’s girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend.”

“And this baby is his.”

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

He pursed his lips, nodding slowly. He began to withdraw his hand, but just as she began to relax, slapped her sharply. She held back a shocked gasp, running her tongue over the blood now running from her lip. 

“I’ll do a lot worse than that, to you and your baby, if you don’t show me some respect. Remember that.” She swallowed, resisting the urge to spit in his face.  
“Why? What’s John done to you?”

He slapped her other cheek, and she took a deep, shaky breath. “Look, I broke up with him, okay? Whatever he’s done, it’s nothing to do with me or my child. Please leave us alone.” He smirked at the way her voice snagged on the last words, and she swallowed back a surge of fear.

“Ah, but we can still use you to hurt him, and we will. And I’m sure you can tell us something we’d find interesting.”

“I haven’t been on a hunt for months. I haven’t seen or spoken to John for months. Just let us go, I-I’m begging you.” Her head fell forwards as she fought against her humiliation.

He strode forwards, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up. “No. Your ex-boyfriend killed my pregnant mate. And seeing as we can’t find him, you and your child are the next best option.”

She would have replied, but a bolt of pain shot through her back, taking her breath away. She closed her eyes, trying not to cry out. Falling into the van like that must have damaged her back. 

“I told you, I haven’t spoken to John for months. He doesn’t care what happens to either of us. I’m begging you. Please don’t hurt my baby.”

He scrutinised her for a second. “You’re telling the truth.”

She could have sobbed with relief. “Yes! Yes, I am.”

“Fine.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

“What?” she called after him, her voice cracking. “No, don’t leave me here! Don’t…”

She tried shouting for the next hour before admitting to herself that it was useless. By that point, it had become clear that she had much bigger problems than just being held hostage.

The pains in her back were getting worse, and coming more frequently, until it became obvious. She was going into labour tied to a chair in some monster’s basement.

And she’d thought her day had hit rock bottom.

“You could have chosen a better time, sweetheart,” she panted in one of the gaps.

It was hours before she heard movement again, and by then all she could do was try not to scream when another contraction hit. As the door opened, she looked up to see who was coming in. There was a pang of mixed relief and anger when she saw John.

She closed her eyes again. “Took you long enough.”

She heard him rush behind her and begin to cut the ropes at her wrists. “What’s he done to you, Abbie?”

“Nothing. I’m fine. John, what is he?”

“Lamia. Somehow found his way here from Greece. I killed the mate a few weeks ago, but he got away. I got rid of him.”

“So I hear.” She sucked in a deep breath as more pain washed over her. “Thanks for coming for me.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you here.” He cut the ropes at her ankles, then helped her to her feet. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re very pale.”

“I’m fine. I just want to get home.” Or to a hospital, but she was damned if she was going to tell him that.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You could come back to mine”-

“No.” She cut him off, and felt his gaze snap to her face. “No, I’m going to my home, and you’re going to yours, and we won’t see each other again.”

His face closed off. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, Abbie. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Another contraction stabbed through her, and she gasped, her knees buckling beneath her. John caught her before she could fall, the emptiness replaced by worry. She couldn’t stop herself from noticing that he still smelt the same, and the feeling of his hands on her arms sparked memories of those same hands all over her body. “See, this is what I mean. You may not like it but you’re pregnant, Abbie. You need someone to keep an eye on you.”

Bitterness flooded her mind, and she pulled away to lean against the wall. “I know I’m pregnant. You chose to walk away because I was pregnant, I’ve dealt with it the last five months alone and I don’t need your bloody help…” the words tailed off in a gasp.

He reached out as though to touch her again, but she jerked away. “I didn’t want to leave, Abbie. You made me make an impossible choice.”  
“It shouldn’t have been a choice. But that doesn’t matter. Just let me go home, John.”

“I won’t leave you if you’re hurt, Abbie!” It sounded like the words had been torn out of him, and she had to look away from the anguish on his face.

“I’m not hurt. I’m going to be fine.” Her head fell back against the wall as the pain hit her again.

She could hear the truth of what was happening dawning on him as he spoke. “Abbie, you’re not…the baby’s not…”

“Oh, congratulations.” She laughed tiredly, too exhausted to hide it any more. “You figured it out. Yes, our daughter is coming, which is why I want to be as far away from you as possible.”

“Our daughter.” His voice was quieter than she’d ever known it.

“Don’t get too used to saying that. You’re not having anything to do with her.”

“You can’t stop me seeing her if I want to,” he argued stubbornly.

“I can, John, because you’ll put her in danger. She’s already in danger just because she’s your child. You’re not making it worse.”

“That’s not fair,” he snapped.

She just laughed at him. “That lamia threatened her life, John. That’s why he took me. Stay away if you want what’s best for her.”

There was a second’s silence. Then, “Okay.”

She closed her eyes as a new bolt of pain pierced her, this one nothing to do with the baby. “I am taking you to hospital, though. I won’t stay, but you can’t go home like this.”

She hated it, hated him, but she knew he was right. “Fine.”

Later she would think about the journey, be grateful for what he’d done for her. She would know that she was in too much pain to even think about driving. Unfortunately, that also meant that she was in too much pain to fully appreciate it. It all felt like a blur. Her whole world was reduced to the pain that was getting worse and closer together and it took what little concentration she had left not to scream at the top of her lungs.

She couldn’t focus on the hospital or the staff that swarmed around her as soon as John led her in. She either didn’t notice or didn’t remember John leaving. 

Finally, sweaty and tired beyond belief, she was told to give one final push and then there was a baby in front of her screaming its head off.

Although her head was swimming and she’d thought she was too exhausted to move, she managed to reach up and take her beautiful little daughter in her arms, smiling down at her face. Her head already had a covering of thick, dark hair, and when she opened her eyes they were a beautiful deep brown.

“Hello, Molly,” Abbie whispered.


	14. Worth It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few years later, Abbie goes on a hunt which isn't entirely successful and meet someone new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little late, but I hope it will be worth it :) Thank you to everyone who's still reading!

1998 

“That’s enough, now, Molly. Go to sleep.” Abbie said firmly. 

The little girl in the bed folded her arms stubbornly and pushed out her bottom lip. “No. Don’t want to.”

Abbie closed her eyes and let out a deep breath, willing herself to speak calmly. “Molly, that doesn’t matter. It’s bedtime. You need to sleep.”

Molly simply sat up further, pushing the sheets away and crossing her legs. Abbie turned away. “Molly, in ten seconds I am turning the light out and then going into the other room. If I check on you in twenty minutes and you’re not asleep, there won’t be any pudding tomorrow.”

“But Mommy…” 

“Ten. Nine,” she began. Molly dived hurriedly under the covers, pulling them up under her chin and squeezing her eyes tightly shut. 

“Sleep well, Molly,” Abbie said softly from the doorway as she shut the lights off with a click. Once she was out in the main room of the motel and the door was closed, she allowed herself a moment to breath. She hated having to scold Molly, but she was so headstrong. Her father’s daughter, really. 

This was so much harder than she’d thought it would be, even though Molly was nearly six.

Sighing, she trudged downstairs, plucking a piece of a jigsaw puzzle off the carpet to leave with the rest of the puzzle. Molly’s toys had somehow managed to spread themselves all over the small room, despite how hard she tried to get her to tidy up. In all honesty, she didn’t really mind. It made the place a little more cheerful.

When she went into the kitchenette –she missed the study in her new house with a lockable door Molly couldn’t get past- she found a piece of paper discarded on the table. Two stick figures, a wobbly yellow sun, and a strip of green grass. Written across the sky were the words “luv Molly”.

She smiled to herself, taking the piece of paper down to take home with them. The motel room was small, with just enough room for a desk and chair alongside the cooker. The walls were covered in pictures and news reports, detailing the case she’d found. 

After Molly had been born, she’d given up hunting for a while. With a new-born to look after, she’d usually been too tired to go grocery shopping, let alone hunting. But when Molly had been about a year old, she’d caught wind of a ghost in a nearby town, and it had been almost frighteningly easy to burn it. It hadn’t even taken a day. 

So now she exclusively worked nearby cases, passing the details of more distant ones to other hunters. Molly thought they were travelling to interview people as part of her job as a freelance journalist. It was easier when she was on school vacations, like she was now.

She’d have to tell her one day, but for now, the monsters in Molly’s cupboard were just shadows. It would be nice if it could stay that way until she started school, at least.  
It wasn’t that she didn’t feel guilty, she reasoned with herself. It was a case of doing what was best for Molly. For her daughter.

She wished now she hadn’t been so hard on John over lying to Sam. It was the only parenting decision of his she’d copied.

But that was all in the past. She hadn’t seen or spoken to any of the Winchesters for years. Right now, there had been a string of mysterious disappearances in this town, and she thought witches might be responsible. A whole coven of them, if the numbers were any indication. 

She opened her notebook and sank into the chair, swinging her legs aimlessly as she began to flick through the few pages of information she’d already gathered. Then she began to scribble in the details of another death matching the pattern. With any luck, she’d be able to sort the whole thing out tomorrow.

The next morning, she woke up before Molly did. For a moment, she just lay in bed and watched Molly as she slept. She looked so peaceful like this.

But she wouldn’t be once she woke up hungry and started badgering her for breakfast. Sighing, she got out of bed and pulled on a sweater over her pyjamas, padding into the kitchen to get cereal ready. 

A skittering of feet sounded behind her just as she got the milk out, and she turned to sweep Molly into her arms just as she skidded towards her. “Morning, sweetheart,” she chuckled into her hair. 

“Morning, Mommy,” Molly replied. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Cornflakes,” she replied, handing her a bowl.

Molly cocked her head, and she inwardly sighed, bracing for an argument. “Don’t we have any Lucky Charms?”

“No,” she said. “Cornflakes or nothing.”

Molly appeared to consider this, before cheerfully piping “Okay,” and heading off to sit at the table. Abbie blew out a relieved breath.

After she’d sat down with her, she turned to her and said, “Are you working today, Mommy?”

“Yeah, sweetie, I am. I’m hoping to be back by this evening, though.”

“Can I watch TV while you’re out?”

“Yeah, but not too much, you hear? You could finish that jigsaw.”

Molly nodded happily. Abbie’s gut twisted with guilt, but she knew it was the only logical thing to do. She had to hunt, she’d go mad without it, and there was no way she was bringing a five-year-old with her.

After breakfast, she showered and pulled her hair back into a tight plait, then rifled through her bag for the equipment she’d need. A witness had reported seeing the last victim being pulled into an alley before disappearing, so she hoped she’d find a way to the witch through there.

She left the motel at about half past ten, with some final instructions for Molly. “Anyone comes knocking, you don’t speak to them, okay? Hide under the bed until I come back for you.”

Molly nodded vacantly, her attention fixed on whatever kid’s programme was on TV.

She found the alley quickly, and wasn’t surprised when there was a drain cover at the end of it. That would explain how the witches got around so quickly.  
Ah, well. She’d been overdue for a jog through the sewers.

It was the work of a few minutes to wrench the cover off and slip into the sewers, and she winced away from the unpleasant squelch of whatever she landed in. The smell was horrific, something she’d never get used to, no matter how many time she did this. 

The sewer was dimly lit, and she could see drag marks cutting through the general filth along the walkway. As unpleasant as it was, it at least gave her something to follow. 

The trail eventually led her to a narrow doorway in the wall of the tunnel. Slipping her knife out from her waistband, she crept through it. There were voices near the end of the corridor, and she paused before the next doorway.

When she peered round it, she saw a group of about seven people in a circle chanting in the centre of the room. A woman sat gagged and bound to a chair in the middle, and her eyes were wide with fear. At the side of the room was another chamber with a barred door covering it, and she could make out human outlines.

One of their heads turned and looked right at where she was stood. She pulled her head back and pressed herself against the stone, her heart beating so fast she was almost trembling.

When she was certain they weren’t coming, she began to think of how she could act.

It would be difficult. She was outnumbered heavily. Even though she had a hex bag, and they couldn’t cast spells on her, she didn’t know if she could fight off that many people at once. 

However, if she found a way to unlock those doors, and they were distracted trying to stop their prisoners escaping…

She grinned to herself.

First, she hid her knife again. Then, taking a deep breath, she strolled into the room. For a second, everyone froze, and she was able to walk right around to stand in front of the cage. She put one hand on the hilt of her knife for reassurance, at the same time pulling out her lock pick behind her back and holding it through the bars. Long fingers took it from her, and she sighed in relief.

The witches seemed to collect themselves, and she simply grinned when they snarled at her. One of them shot a bolt of white light, but it simply rolled off her.  
“What are you?” he snarled.

She shrugged. “Someone who wants to get in on what you’ve got going here.”

Their reactions were telling. They glanced at each other, some of them going so far as to relax. 

“And what do you think is going on here?” asked the same one, a good-looking young man.

She narrowed her eyes a little, pulling together what she knew. “You’re sacrificing people to fulfil a deal with a demon, giving you power to do what you like.”  
The man’s eyebrows shot skywards, and she had to fight her smug grin at knowing she’d been correct. 

Way to go, Abbie.

“And what makes you think we’d be interested in you?” he asked, his tone much more open.

She tipped her head to the side. “It would be an extra pair of hands to kidnap people with.”

He glanced back at the others, and they all nodded. She tensed as he began to walk towards her, and hoped against hope that the people in the cage behind her were ready.  
As the man reached out to taker her hand, she brought out her knife and thrust it up into his abdomen. “Or, I don’t know, I could just kill you all,” she hissed into his ear, letting him collapse to the floor. “Go!” she screamed to the people behind her as hell broke out.

They were stock still for a second, before the whole group of them rushed towards her. She’d have been killed if it weren’t for the people behind her racing from the cage at the same time. 

She managed to kill two of them in the initial chaos, and stabbed another when he tried to grab her from behind. Just as another was going to stab her with his knife, he collapsed, and she looked to see a lanky man with an elated grin and a filthy face had hit his head. She nodded her thanks, too busy to be surprised.

Three left. The brief pause gave her time to stab one more, then the next, until finally it was only one more person…

A small, curly haired woman holding a knife to the throat of the woman in the chair. Before she could react, she’d slit her throat. 

With one long scream of rage, she hurled her knife across the room. It thudded into the woman’s chest, and she went down with a surprised look on her face. But it was already too late by the time Abbie got to her victim’s side.

She let out a sob of grief, murmuring apologies to the poor woman as she closed her eyes. There hadn’t even been time for her to scream.

She jumped a mile at the feel of a hand on her back, before spinning and coming face to face with the man who’d knocked out the witch before. He smiled at her kindly.  
“Hey. It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have done anything.”

She rubbed a hand across her face. “Yeah, but I should have saved her first. I let her down.”

The man took a breath, but she cut him off, turning to stand and face him. “Doesn’t matter. It’s done now. Why are you still here, anyway?”

He took a step back, folding his arms. Up close, she could see he was gaunt and battered, but his gaze was warm with admiration. “You saved my life. Figured I could return the favour.” His voice was deep, smooth, but mellower than John’s.

“Yeah, where did you learn that? It was pretty impressive. I assume you’re the one who picked the lock too?” She took a shaky breath, trying not to show how hard the woman’s death had hit her.

“I’m a hunter. Like you, it seems, except they caught me off guard snooping around. I owe you my life.” He gave her a funny little nod, eyes alight with humour.

“You’re welcome.” She hesitated. “Got anywhere to stay?”

He shook his head. The suggestion was on her lips before she could stop it. “Want to crash at my motel?”

He appeared taken aback for a moment, before nodding slowly. “Well, sure. Seeing as you’re offering.”

“Okay, then.” She started towards the door, looking back only once. “You coming?” 

With a grin, he followed.


	15. Trust Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When something happens to Molly, Abbie and John are reunited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually updated on time! Hope you enjoy it.  
> Also, I started a writing blog on Tumblr @multi-fandomoneshots, and I would love it if you dropped by and sent me some requests!

Early 1999

The hunter’s name was Harvey, and over the next few months, the two of them grew close. More than close, if she was honest with herself. He was the only person she’d met since who could flirt with her without reminding her of him.

That didn’t explain why she was holding him at arm’s length, though.

She wasn’t scared of a relationship with him. She just didn’t completely trust him.

Part of it was what she thought of as her hunter’s instincts. He made her more than a little uneasy. But more than that, it was the way Molly had reacted to him as soon as he’d walked through the door.

Her little face had gone white, and Abbie still remembered the panicked way she’d glanced between the two of them. At first, she’d put it down to his being a stranger. But six months had gone past since then, and Molly still hadn’t warned up to him. 

Right now, they were all sat around the dinner table of Abbie’s home, and Molly was sullenly kicking the table leg. 

“I’ve asked you to stop that, sweetheart. Sit up straight, please,” she scolded her. Reluctantly, Molly moved back in her chair, and settled for glaring at Harvey. Thankfully, he seemed to be oblivious, shovelling food away like there was no tomorrow. 

Molly seemed to see this too, because she shoved her plate away and gave her a pleading glance. She caved.

“You can get down now, Molly.”

A fleeting smile passed over her face before she ran into the other one. Harvey looked up as she left.

“Is it something I said?” he asked conversationally.

Abbie sighed, leaning back in her chair, and sipped at her glass of wine. “No. Molly probably just doesn’t like the idea of me having a boyfriend.”

Harvey had been reaching over to take her glass and refill it. He looked at her sharply. “Is that what I am?” There was a strange, almost triumphant, glint in his eyes.

“No,” she denied quickly. Too quickly. “But that’s what Molly will think.”

“Does it really matter what she thinks? As long as we’re friends, I mean?”

“Not really, I guess,” she smiled briefly. They returned to eating their dinner in silence, until he spoke again abruptly.

“Would you like to be? Boyfriend and girlfriend, I mean?”

He looked sideways at her from his plate. She sat speechless, momentarily taken aback. 

“Harvey- I- after the whole thing with John…” She’d been completely honest with him about who Molly’s father was. “I thought you understood. I don’t think it would be a good idea. Maybe when she’s older, but…”

He sat back, a confident smirk growing on his face. “Come on, Abbie. I know how I feel about you, and I think you might feel the same way.” 

Crossing her arms, she tried to hide her discomfort. “Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter, okay? I’m not ready, and I don’t want to be rushed into anything.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait,” he said confidently. “I’ll be here whenever you want me. In the meantime, don’t you think we should be helping Molly get used to me?”

Overwhelmed, and struggling to process the sudden change in conversation, she shook her head to try and clear it. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”

“Then that hunt tomorrow, how about you go solo, and I take care of her for you?”

The hunt was a pretty simple shifter case. It had been easy to identify, and they both knew it wouldn’t take much effort to solve it. Instinct told her to reject the offer. “Oh- that’s kind, but- another time, maybe.”

She’d hope that he would drop the point, but he didn’t. “No, I think we might as well start straight away. We might never get another chance, y’know?”

Her head felt like it was swimming as he continued to prattle on about it. In the end, she just said, “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.” With any luck, he would have forgotten by tomorrow morning.

He didn’t. As Abbie was packing for the hunt, he came into her room, and said, “So I’m still taking care of Molly, yeah?”

She blinked, flustered. It would be rude of her to change the plan now, wouldn’t it? So she had no choice but to go along with it.

“Yeah,” she said finally. “Yeah, if that’s still okay with you. I’ll just go and tell her.”

Dread weighed her feet down as she walked towards Molly’s room. She wasn’t going to like this, she thought as she knocked on the door.

“Can I come in, Molly?” she called softly.

“Yeah!” came the reply. Molly was lying on her stomach on the floor, engrossed in a book. Abbie swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked down at her. She seemed to age every time she turned her back.

“Did you want something, Mom?” Molly asked, twisting to look at her over her shoulder.

She shook the thoughts off and came further into the room to sit on the bed. “Yeah. Er. Harvey won’t be coming on the hunt later.” It was probably better just to come straight out with it, she reasoned to herself.

Molly sat up, her eyes suddenly alight. “Why? Did you fight?”

“No.” Her daughter visibly sagged. “No, sweetheart. It’s just…well, we don’t both need to go on the hunt. Harvey thought it might be a good idea if he were to stay behind and look after you.”

“What?” Molly almost shouted. She sprang to her feet. “No, Mommy, no! You can’t leave me alone with him! He’s bad!”

The guilt and worry combined to snap Abbie’s temper. “That’s enough, Molly! He’s not bad, he’s a nice man, and he has very kindly agreed to look after you tonight. I’m leaving in a few minutes, and you will treat him with respect.”

“No! I want to come with you!” Molly began to cry. “Please, Mommy, I’m scared of him!”

Everything in her wanted nothing more to go to her and gather her into her arms and tell her to ssh, it would all be okay. Instead, what she said was “Enough! This is exactly why he’s looking after you. I will see you later, okay?”

She couldn’t stand any more, and turned and walked out before Molly could reply. 

“I hate you, Mommy!” Molly called after her, voice broken with sobs. 

She almost vomited right there and then. No, Molly didn’t hate her, not her little Molly…

In a storm of tears, she barged into her bedroom, grabbed her bag and left again. Harvey called after her, but she ignored him to hurry out to her car.

This was the right thing, she promised herself. Molly needed to get used to Harvey.

(Why? she asked herself. It wasn’t like she wanted a relationship with him.)

Like they’d thought it would be, the hunt was easy. But all through the drive, her thoughts kept swinging back around to Molly. The further away she got, the clearer her mistake became. 

What the hell had she been thinking? She barely knew Harvey. She didn’t really know why she’d trusted him enough to look after Molly. And now if anything happened to her, it would be her fault.

She’d worked herself up into a panicked frenzy well before she finally arrived back home. Not even stopping to turn the engine off, she abandoned the van and all but ran towards the house.

It was a few moments before she realised that the front door was open.

Dread settled into the pit of her stomach, and she moved forward as if in a dream. The shoes normally lined up against the wall were scattered all over the place, as if someone desperate had kicked them. The paint was scratched and in places chipped. 

There was one small spot of blood near the bottom of the stairs. 

Frantically, she called out for her daughter, then for Harvey. When neither responded, she dashed all round the house looking for them.

It was no use, she finally realised. They were gone.

Oh, Molly, sweetheart, I’m so sorry…

She sunk onto the bottom step with her head in her hands, shaking with tears.

This was her fault. All her own, stupid fault.

In the silence, her phone rang. 

For an instant, she froze, then dashed towards it. Her hands shook as she held it up to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Abbie,” came Harvey’s gloating voice from the other end.

All the panic solidified into ice-cold anger. Of course this was his doing.

“You,” she hissed. “What have you done with my daughter?”

“Woah, woah.” She could practically hear his smug smile through the phone. “I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who left your dear Molly alone with me. I just took advantage of that.”

“You drugged me last night,” she realised with a jerk. “The wine- you…”

“Congratulations. Doesn’t change what happens now, does it?”

“What does happen now?” she asked through gritted teeth. “Is she hurt? What are you going to do to her?”

“So many questions! She’s fine. We just want you to come and meet with us. I’m sending two of my friends to your house. If you go with them, then Molly will be just fine.”

She slammed the handset down, trembling.

Stupid woman.

She was going with them. This was Molly’s life on the line. She had no choice. Once she was there, she would have to find a way of getting them both out. 

Maybe she wouldn’t have to do it alone.

When she’d told Harvey that she’d had no contact with the Winchesters since Molly’s birth, she’d lied. John had kept sending her updated phone numbers, hoping that she would relent and allow him to see his daughter.

Now those phone numbers might be her only hope. Their only hope.

She flicked through her notebook for the last one he’d sent. Her fingers jabbed the numbers in violently, and she found herself closing her eyes as the phone began to ring.

Pick up. Oh, God, John, please pick up.

She could have cried when a click came from the other end, followed by a deep voice. 

“Hello?”

“John. It’s me.”

A split second of silence from the other end, then John replied, his voice softer. 

“Abbie.” It wasn’t a question.

“I, er. I need your help, John.”

He sounded surprised as he answered. “I don’t hear from you for years, and you call asking for help?”

“It’s not for me,” she snapped. Then her voice cracked. “John, it’s Molly. She’s been kidnapped. It’s my fault.”

“Molly. My daughter.” His voice was almost reverent.

“Yeah. She’s missing, John.”

When he next spoke, it was brisk and business-like. “Kidnapped by what? Do you know why?”

“There’s this guy, another hunter. Harvey Edmonds. We’ve been seeing a lot of each other, and last night…”

“Harvey Edmonds? You’re sure?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He sounded grim. “He’s not a hunter. He works with demons. I thought I’d finished him off the last time I saw him, but clearly not. And he knows we were together?”

She felt faint. “Yeah, I told him…oh god, I was so stupid…”

“No, you weren’t,” he said firmly. “He’s very good at what he does. And I would guess that he’s after revenge on me. So that’s probably the motive. Has he told you where he’s keeping her?”

“No, he’s sending his friends to collect me.”

“Right. Where are you?”

She gave him her address. He made a surprised sound. “I’m only half an hour away. Right, hold tight, Abbie. I’m on my way. Don’t panic.”

It felt like an age before she heard the rumble of the Impala pulling up outside her house. God, that noise…she’d never forgotten it.

She opened the door and before she could react, he was sweeping her into his arms. Pressing her face into his shoulder, she broke into sobs. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, rubbing her back. “We’re gonna get her back, okay?

She nodded, wiping her eyes as he put her down. He spoke to her gently, as if to a child, as he described his plan, and by the end she had at least some control over herself. 

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I know I don’t deserve this, but…”

He shushed her. “Don’t be silly. Of course you do. And even if you didn’t, she’s a Winchester. We look after our own.”

She swallowed back bitter disappointment. Of course he was only doing this for his daughter. 

He continued. “Now, they’re probably nearly here, so I’m going to leave, okay? But I’ll be behind you all the way.”

Nodding, she tried to smile. “Yeah. See you soon.”

After he left, all she could do was sink onto her sofa and wait, guilt swirling in her stomach.

At the sound of another car pulling up outside, she let out a deep breath.

Now she had to be ready.


	16. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie and John go to rescue Molly. Abbie makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...one more chapter left. Hope you guys enjoy it!

She opened the door with her arms folded, keeping her expression as calm as she could. The two men stood on her doorstep looked down at her, their grim expressions identical. A ripple of dread ran through her, but she managed to ignore it.

They didn’t speak as she locked her door and let then lead her to the car. Both of them got in the front, and they set off. 

Abbie was simmering with anger, mixed with fear, and to keep them from seeing how afraid she was she looked out of the window. As they passed the alley at the end of the street, she saw John’s black Impala pull out to follow them. Although she didn’t like it, knowing that John was close behind gave her some comfort.

It didn’t seem to take long before they pulled up in front of an isolated warehouse. The goons opened her door for her and gripped her arm tightly as she went inside. It felt humiliating, like they were treating her like a child, but she wasn’t going to shake them off, just yet. Molly was depending on her.

As they went into the main room, she saw Molly straight away. She was crumpled in a corner, her dark hair hiding her. She swallowed around a sick surge of guilt.

When she tried to walk towards her, the men tightened their grips on her arms. She glared at them, thinking of nothing but Molly. If she had to wait one second longer, one of them was going to get hurt. 

“Get off me,” she growled, trying to shake their grips off. 

“Now, Abbie, I wouldn’t do that. Someone might get hurt,” came a condescending voice from the door. With murder in her heart, she slowly turned to face Harvey. He simply smirked at the loathing in her eyes, and she wondered how she could have ever have thought him attractive. “Don’t look at me like that, Abbie. You’ll get your precious little daughter back.”

“You had better not have hurt her, you son-of-a-bitch,” she growled.

“Let’s see, shall we?” He strode past them and grabbed Molly by her arm to haul her to her feet. 

Words stuck in Abbie’s throat as her daughter blinked sleepily, stumbling to her feet. Once she registered Abbie, her eyes widened and she called, “Mommy!” The terror in her voice was almost unbearable.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart,” she called back. “Don’t you worry!” And I’m sorry, she added silently.

“Now, isn’t that sweet?” Harvey sneered. “Sure you can keep that promise, Abbie?”

“What do you want, you bastard?” she snarled. 

In one quick movement, he tugged Molly in front of him and held a knife to her throat. Abbie balked, and the two men had to hold her still as her legs threatened to collapse.

“I want you to fetch John Winchester,” Harvey said. His voice was very calm, and at complete odds with the manic glint in his eyes. 

She could have laughed, then. “This is all for him. Harvey, for god’s sake. I told you. I don’t have any contact with him.”

“Sure you do.” He shook Molly, and she let out a small whimper as he nicked her throat. Bile rose in Abbie’s throat. “And you’re gonna fetch him for me.”

“No need for that,” said John from the doorway. “I’m right here.”

She turned to look at him, and he gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s gonna be okay,” he mouthed. Then he raised his voice again. “You got me. Let Molly go.”

He shoved her away without a second thought. Abbie finally broke away from the other men’s grips, and ran to meet her daughter in the middle of the floor. Molly crashed into her with all the force of a small hurricane, and she swept her off the floor and into her arms.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she murmured, inhaling the strawberry-shampoo scent of her hair.

“It’s okay, Mommy,” Molly sniffled against her shoulder. “I’m not mad.”

“You’re okay, right? He didn’t hurt you?” she asked as she set her back on her feet. She crouched in front of her, checking her carefully.

“I’m fine.” She gave her a huge grin. Then she stiffened in fear as Abbie heard the click of a gun and felt cold metal being pressed to the back of her head.

“Molly, go run to the man in the doorway,” she told her daughter firmly. Then she rose slowly to her feet, the gun keeping level with her head.

Behind her, John sound pissed. “Harvey, what the hell is this? Let Abbie and Molly go.”

“No,” said Harvey from very close behind her. “You and I have unfinished business, Winchester.”

“That doesn’t concern them,” said John firmly. She thought that only she heard the way his voice shook.

“It does. I needed to attract your attention.”

“So to do that, you drugged my ex-girlfriend and kidnapped her daughter.” John summarised. 

The gun rose and fell a little as he shrugged. “It was taking too long. I don’t have much time left.”

“Until what?” asked John. Now he sounded wary.

“Enough,” he snapped. “You need to take this goddamn curse off me.” Abbie frowned. Now she was confused, not just scared.

“What is he on about? What curse, John?” Abbie asked.

He sounded just as bewildered as she did. “Abbie, in all honesty, I have no idea.”

“Sure you do,” Harvey snapped. “The one that makes it sound like dogs are chasing me all the damn time.”

She almost gasped as she realised what he meant. But what- John…

“John?” she asked simply.

The two of them turned slowly, so that she could see him. He was frowning. 

“Harvey. I have no idea what you mean. I didn’t curse you, all right? Please put the gun down.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” barked Harvey. His voice was rising with anxiety. “Can’t you hear them?”

John shook his head, very slowly. “Harvey, put the gun down, and we’ll find a way to help you, alright?”

The frantic look he gave Abbie told her that he’d reached the same conclusion as she had.

“No…no, that’s not right,” muttered Harvey behind her. “They told me. They told me you’d know how to stop this.”

Suddenly, the gun was gone from the back of her head. She took two cautious steps away, before racing to John. The goons had disappeared, she noticed. John brushed her behind him with his arm.

In the main room, Harvey was staring around himself wildly. The gun had been discarded on the floor at his feet. 

“Can’t you hear them? The hounds?” he called to them. Spit flew from his mouth.

“Harvey, I need you to think for me,” John called back, his voice low and reassuring. “Did a demon ever offer you a deal when you were working with them?”

“Y-yes,” he admitted. “But they told me, they promised me, all I had to do was to find you and I could have whatever I wanted…”

“Guess you never read the small print,” John muttered under his breath. “Right, Harvey, come with me, we’ll get you somewhere safe…”

“I think it’s too late for that,” Abbie murmured. Harvey’s gaze was fixed on a spot behind them, and he began to back away as fast as he could.

Abbie fell to her knees and wrapped Molly in her arms as the screams began. With any luck, she’d be able to block most of them out. Her daughter, tired and scared and confused, trembled in her arms.

There were a few gunshots, John trying to scare the hellhounds away, but Abbie had a feeling that he knew the whole thing was pointless. 

“Ssh, it will all be over soon,” she whispered into Molly’s hair. “I know it’s horrible, Molly. I’m so sorry you had to see this.”

After the screams died away, she opened her eyes to look over Molly’s shoulder. 

Harvey lay in the middle of the chamber. Thin ribbons of red blood ran from his body and pooled beneath him, and his body had been badly mauled. She swallowed back the urge to retch.

“Don’t look,” she told Molly, who was crying into her shoulder. To John, she said, “I’m taking her out to the car.”

He nodded. His focus was entirely on Harvey’s broken body, and his expression was grim. He didn’t speak. 

“What was that, Mommy?” Molly whimpered as she carried her out to the car. “I don’t understand.”

A lump formed in her throat. God, she’d tried so hard to avoid giving her daughter this particular talk.

“I’ll explain later, I promise,” she half whispered. “When we’re home. But you need to get some sleep now, okay?”

Molly nodded against her shoulder. She barely stirred as Abbie lay her down on the backseat, but did put her head in her lap.

Abbie sank back against the seats, bone tired. Slowly, she ran her fingers through Molly’s hair. All she felt from the night’s events was overwhelming numbness.  
She didn’t want to think about any of it.

Before long, John was there too. Bright flames were just beginning to lick out from the windows of the warehouse, and the shifting light flickered on his face.

His expression softened as he saw the two of them, and he came to lean against the side of the car.

“So this is her. My daughter.”

“Her name’s Molly,” Abbie confirmed softly. His lips parted slightly as he stared at her, apparently overcome.

“She’s beautiful,” he said finally.

Abbie couldn’t help a small, proud smile. “And brave, and strong, and a thousand times more deserving of us than we are of her.”

“I don’t blame you for trying to keep her safe,” he replied. “I just wish there were some way for her both to be safe and part of my life.”

“There isn’t,” she said firmly. “Look at me, I tried it, and you can see what happened. Now…how do I explain hellhounds to a five year old?”

He shook his head, expression weighed down with regret.

“What will you do now?” he asked finally. 

She sighed. “Try to move on. I don’t think I can hunt anymore.”

“Will they leave you alone, do you think?”

She smiled bitterly. “Not a chance. She’ll spend her childhood on the run.”

John’s jaw clenched. “Abbie, if I could do anything…”

“You would. I know you would.” She looked up at him. “But you can’t, John. We’ll just have to do the best we can. Just take us home, please.”

He nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

With one last glance at the two of them, he got into the front seat.

Once they were back at the house, he opened the door for her. She got out carefully, trying not to disturb her daughter, sleeping in her arms.

“You know, I’m sorry if I ever hurt you,” he said suddenly as she went to walk past him. She turned to face him slowly, heaviness weighing down her chest. 

“Yeah. So am I. It was never really meant to work, was it?”

Wistfully, he shook his head. His eyes lingered on her face as he said goodbye.

“You be careful now, Abbie.”

She smiled back at him. “Aren’t I always?”

She didn’t go to sleep after he left. She curled up on the sofa with a re-run of some old sitcom playing on the TV. Her attention was elsewhere, trying to come to terms with what she’s decided.

She didn’t know how she was going to tell Molly that they were moving. It wouldn’t be the last time they did, either. With a twinge of regret, she realised that Molly would grow up like Sam and Dean had- always on the run, looking over her shoulder. Not the childhood she’d had planned for. But after all, she had been a hunter. The hunting life was unpredictable, and it never gave up on you.

When she heard Molly start sobbing in her bedroom, she knew that she was out of time to think. She was a mother, and she had a child to protect.


	17. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several years later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! I hope you've all enjoyed it. The sequel, Her Father's Daughter, will be starting in the next couple of weeks or so, so keep an eye on the series!

Abbie waited in the school carpark, drumming her fingers anxiously on the wheel. Every so often, she glanced anxiously at the street outside the school, where a black car was idling just beyond the gates. The black tint on the windows meant that she couldn’t see inside.

The doors to reception swung open, and Molly emerged, dragging her feet. Her rucksack was slung over one shoulder, and she looked fed up about something.

“What’s going on, Mom?” she asked as she tugged the door open. 

“Just get in. We need to go,” Abbie snapped. Molly hesitated.

“Go where?”

Abbie nodded towards the car. Molly looked, and her face went white. 

“They followed me from home,” Abbie said by way of explanation. “I don’t know what they want, but we need to get away from them, now.”

“We’re not coming back, are we?” she asked. Her expression was grim. Abbie shook her head.

She slumped into her seat, turning her head to look out the window. Hatred burned in her heart for the men in the car. She’d just begun to settle in here. She was happy.

“I’m sorry,” Abbie told her in a softer voice as she pulled out of the car park. “I know you liked it here.”

She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not like you haven’t done this before.”

That stung. “Molly, if I had any choice over this at all, we’d be staying.” She glanced into the side mirror. The car had pulled out behind their van and was keeping pace with them. Damn. “But this is the only way to stay safe.”

“You could fight,” her daughter suggested.

She snorted. “Nah. I haven’t fought for years, Molls, I’m out of shape. Besides, there would just be something else to track us down. This is the only safe thing to do.”

Molly glanced out the window. “They’re still following, Mom.”

“Yeah, I know,” she replied. “I’m gonna have to lose them. Hold tight.”

Molly’s hand flew to the door handle as the van turned sharply down a side street. Behind them, she heard tyres squealing on the road. Abbie smiled in grim pleasure.

“Let’s see how fast they can go, shall we?”

Molly tensed as Abbie put her foot down on the accelerator. She’d specifically modified the engine for situations like this. Whatever was following them wouldn’t know what had hit them.

Molly was much less pleased. She hated the high speed car chases, hated the way they made her stomach and pressed her back into the seat. 

Still, she was used to it by now.

Finally, Abbie pulled up on the side of a road. “Any sign of them?” she asked.

She looked behind them and shook her head. “Nope. I think we’re safe.”

“Good. I couldn’t have stood that much longer,” she sighed as she sunk back into the seat.

“So where are we headed now?” Molly asked tiredly.

“I thought we might try Maine. It’s been a while since we left that one, and I don’t think they managed to burn it completely. I had it rebuilt.”

Maine. She’d liked Maine. It was the vampires that had chased them away from there. Not for the first time, Molly shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

“You know, Mom, if you let me train as a hunter we wouldn’t have to…”

“No. Absolutely not.” Abbie cut her off.

“Why not? It makes more sense than moving every three months.”

“It’s too dangerous. Take it from me, Molls, you don’t want to get into that life. Just stick with the self-defence classes, okay? Besides. You’re not even a teenager yet.”

Molly scowled, but didn’t press the point. She was sure she’d be able to persuade her mother, some day.

They drove through the night, and once they arrived at the house Molly went straight inside. Most of her things were still in her room from the last time they’d lived there.

Downstairs, Abbie pulled out her laptop. She opened her email, and began a new message.

Dear John.  
We had to move again. There was something waiting outside the house. They tried to follow us, but we shook them off. Both of us are fine. We’re at the Maine house. Thought you might want to go check it out.  
Molly asked about hunting again today. I don’t know how long she’ll keep accepting no for an answer.  
All the best. I hope you and the boys are all okay.  
Abbie.

She shut her laptop, and trudged upstairs to bed. 

Across the country, John’s laptop screen lit up. He looked up from his journal, tugging it towards him. Behind him, the light lit up Dean’s form, sleeping in the motel bed. 

His face darkened into a frown as he scanned the email, and he glanced behind him. The motel room had three beds. Abbie didn’t know that Sam had left yet.

He opened his notepad and scribbled a note for Dean to find in the morning. Then he crept out of the room. 

Dean jerked awake just as the Impala’s engine started.


End file.
